


Strings

by Pingvingirl



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: All Human, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pingvingirl/pseuds/Pingvingirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bella doesn't have time for a boyfriend. But she wouldn't mind having one around part-time for occasional neck massages, spider rescues, romantic evenings and all those awkward plus-one invitations. What happens when Edward applies for the position?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reaching for a thread

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Surprisingly Twilight isn’t mine. Not that I’m borrowing much other than the names…
> 
> A/N: In its original incarnation this was a one-shot for Fandom for Tsunami. Rewritten and expanded - hope you like it!

She rubbed at the back of her neck as they all exited the meeting room. _Imbeciles. She spent her days dealing with fools and imbeciles. And why the fuck would they think they can do her job when it was abundantly clear they couldn’t do their own?_ She tried tilting her head to either side. It was pounding like a bomb on a countdown. Any second now it might actually explode. And wouldn’t they loveher making that kind of mess in the middle of their oh-so-tasteful corporate décor?

“Tough day?”

 

 _Stupid question._ She twisted a bit too quickly to give it the bitchface and snark it deserved. She wasn’t expecting to see _him_ , let alone the look of sympathy, maybe even empathy that was pointing in her direction. She’d already exempted him in her mind from the idiots who’d spent the last three hours driving her to distraction. At least with him in the room she’d had something pretty to look at.

 

“The kind of day that makes me wish I had a part-time boyfriend.”

 

_Oh God._

 

He looked amused. “A what?”

 

Blushing wasn’t a strong enough word for what her face was doing. _Engage brain,_ then _open mouth,_ she reminded herself.

 

“A part-time boyfriend.”

 

“Only part-time?”

 

He held the door open- _ooh, a gentleman_ \- and they walked into the late afternoon sunshine. And he wanted an explanation, so. . .

 

“I don’t have the time or inclination to factor someone into every decision I make or everything I do. I kind of like being single, you know? But some days I wish there was someone just to go out for dinner with, or who’d come round and give me a neck massage-“ she rolled her right shoulder, still trying to release the knots- “or go away for a weekend, or be around for a family wedding…”

 

“Isn’t that the same as a friend with benefits? Or if you aren’t looking for the benefits, just a friend?”

 

Bella shook her head. “I guess. But the friend with benefits thing always seems to be all about the benefits, and just a friend wouldn’t have the benefits. This is more of a boyfriend without the commitment. No strings.”

 

She probably sounded like some kind of desperate whore, when in reality nothing could be further from the truth. Well, the whore part, anyway. Some days she wondered if she might be verging on desperate. But as she squinted up at him, she didn't think he looked horrified. He looked almost thoughtful, as though it was a concept that hadn’t ever occurred to him. Of course, it was a concept she wasn’t aware of occurring to anyone besides her.

 

“Wouldn’t it end in tears?”

 

“Not if you know what you’re getting into. Anything starts to change, you get out.” She looked sideways at him. “Why all the questions? Are you thinking of volunteering?”

 

Her breath felt like it was stuck in her throat as she waited to hear if she’d got away with that.

 

He shrugged, not giving much of an indication that he cared either way. “I do give a great neck massage.”

 

Her eyes darted away to anywhere-but-him. He fit too many of the criteria she’d never seriously listed, for her to be hearing lines like that. He wasn’t part of her circle of friends, though she’d describe them as friendly. He was easy to look at, easy to be around. They’d always seemed to get each other, on some kind of basic _I-know-you_ level. She knew him through work, saw him fairly regularly but he wasn’t really a colleague. And he didn’t work in her office, so there were no problems there. The only difficulty was that she’d been in lust (she preferred to describe it like that since the alternative made her sound even more stalker-y and pathetic) since the day they’d met. Six years ago. _Like that wasn’t stalker-y and pathetic at all._ She snapped back to the problem at hand, realising he was waiting for her to say something.

“Prove it.”

 

The words were out before the filter in her brain could tell her voice to abort its mission.

 

“Yeah?”

 

His lips quirked into the crooked grin she found irresistible and the green eyes that had sucked her in right from the start sucked her in just a little bit more.

 

“Yeah.”

 

_Maybe there was something to be said for not thinking before she spoke._

 

“In that case, Miss Swan- I’m assuming this works both ways- are you free for dinner? I really don’t feel like having to cook for myself tonight.”

 

“I guess.”

It turned out to be the most relaxed date she’d ever been on- probably because it wasn’t a date, she reminded herself. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She’d never tried to impress Edward Cullen. She’d tripped over herself in his presence, sure, she’d been tongue tied and jittery and uncoordinated mentally, vocally and physically, but she’d never tried to impress him. Because he was so far out of her league she knew there wasn’t any point.

 

They settled without too much indecision on a little pizza place that was cosy, intimate without being too romantic. She sipped her way through one glass of wine – that was as much as she thought she could manage on a weeknight.

 

_She kind of wished this wasn’t a weeknight._

 

“So, I’ve figured out the friend part and even the part-time part. What about the boy part?”

 

_Especially now. She could use the extra alcohol._

 

She snorted. “If you need help identifying your boy parts, I don’t think you’re up for the job, Edward.”

 

_Where had that come from? Obviously one glass of wine was more than enough._

He smirked. “Oh, I’d definitely be up for the job. And I can identify my boy parts just fine- I can assure you they’re hard to miss. The question is, what do you consider to be the job?”

 

She coloured furiously, trying to ignore that innuendo. “You want me to define friends with benefits?”

 

He shrugged. “No. I want you to define part time boyfriend. Emphasis on the boy.”

 

She looked around nervously, as though people would be listening in. Judging her, though the only opinion she cared about right this minute was his.

 

“Is this really the best time for this discussion?”

 

“Well, we’ve finished dinner. Do the rules require me to see you home? Kiss you goodnight? Give you that neck massage? Or more?”

 

His eyes were fixed firmly on hers so that she could hardly think straight.

 

“M-more?”

 

Stammering _definitely_ went well with the strong-single-woman-in-charge persona she was trying to channel.

 

She couldn’t name the look in his eyes. Or, actually, she thought she could, but she didn’t think she’d survive if she did and she was wrong. She’d wanted him to look at her like that for years. Whole, literal years of her life. If she’d known all she had to do was offer him no strings she might have done it long ago.

 

He nodded slowly. “More.”

 

She gulped an empty breath, reaching for her wine glass, trying to twirl it in a way he might be fooled was nonchalant.

 

“How about we start with the neck massage?” She rolled her head, testing out the tension in her shoulders.

 

“If that’s what you want.”

 

Her heart was thrumming faster as they split the bill and left the restaurant to hail a taxi. She gave her address, not wanting to risk him not knowing it- though he must have known vaguely where she lived for years, he’d only been there once or twice.

 

“I’ll get this.” She fumbled in her purse for the fare as they drew up to her house.

 

“Wait- it’s supposed to be 50/50.”

 

“You’ll have to get home.”

 

She was already thinking about how he’d leave, after whatever was going to happen was over. But she knew the key to this working was not to get hung up on things like that. She couldn’t have one evening with him and find that she was in too deep. The kind of too deep she’d been afraid she was already in, without hope, or encouragement. Giving herself a taste of what she didn’t want to be missing was probably the worst plan she’d ever had- and yet she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

 

At least not yet. She could worry about that tomorrow.

 

She unlocked the door, marvelling that for once her house was clean and visitor ready- almost as if the universe had planned this for her. She shut off the alarm and waved him into her living room, the gesture over-expansive in its nervousness.

 

“Do you want a drink?”

 

He shook his head, taking her hand and bringing her in front of him.

 

“Relax, Bella. You’re in charge here. You don’t want me here, I’ll go.”

 

“And if you don’t want to be here, you’ll go.”

 

She had to give herself the reassurance of knowing that both of them were in control of this, that he wasn’t here for any other reason than he wanted to be.

 

He nodded. “I don’t want to go. Here.”

 

He settled himself onto her couch, opening his legs and gesturing for her to sit down between them. “It’ll be easier for me to give you that neck massage like this.”

 

She stepped round to sit on the floor, her muscles tensing further. His hands were immediately warm on her shoulders.

 

“You’re so tight,” he murmured gently, his fingers working over the knots, gentle, then harder at her resistance.

 

She bit back the noise that threatened to escape from her throat at his words, at the thought of his words in a different context, filing it under _“things she’d like to hear”_ in the fantasy bank in her brain.

 

His hands moved across her shoulders, her neck, into her hair. Down her arms, so that he brushed against her breasts and she had to force herself not to turn into his touch.

 

“Is this ok?”

 

She felt him lean forward, pulling gently at her so that she’d come up to sit between his legs on the sofa.

 

She nodded, incapable of speech, aware with the movement that her lucky underwear was soaking through. She didn’t have lucky underwear in the sense of getting laid- every now and then she pulled it out if she needed to feel better about herself, if she needed some extra confidence that was known only to her. It was lucky only because she’d had a good day in it once- a day devoid of sexual connotation- just good.

 

It wasn’t without sexual connotation now.

 

His hands were straying further from any path of safety, stroking across her ribs, her stomach, sliding gently under her shirt, making her shiver at the feeling of his fingers on skin. He pulled her back, closer to himself, so that she could feel he wasn’t unaffected. Her hands shifted from their position, loose against her sides, to rest on the hard muscle of his thighs.

 

“Is this what the boy part of part time boyfriend means?”

 

“You’re getting there,” she managed.

 

One hand moved up from her stomach, brushing across her breast, hardening her nipple so much that she thought it was trying to make a break for freedom, for his hand, through her bra. But he didn’t linger. The hand made its way further up, brushing her hair away from her neck, clearing a path for his lips.

 

“What about now?”

 

Her head turned, her lips parted to reply. They didn’t get the chance, though apparently her larynx had missed that memo. The sound that escaped as he kissed her was more whimper than articulate response, as though she’d coined a whole other language to tell him this was what she’d wanted. This was what she’d always wanted.

_Good thing she hadn’t said it in English._

_  
_

She managed to turn without breaking contact, still bracing her hands on his thighs. His mouth was so soft, so wet, the contrasting rough of his evening stubble against her skin an overload of sensation. His hands settled on her waist, brushing inside her shirt, making her want more of his touch on her skin.

 

She couldn’t help moaning, embarrassed by the reactions she couldn’t quite contain. He’d think she’d never been kissed before, if she was so pathetically affected by something so innocent. Maybe he’d think the part-time boyfriend was just a way to lure someone in because she was incapable of fostering an actual relationship. Her eyes opened groggily as his fingers tightened on her waist. She looked up into eyes that looked hungry. And the pull of want shifted deeper, in between her legs.

 

“You need to clarify it now, Bella. Are there any boyfriend- _benefits-_ that are only available with the full time position?”

 

She bit her lip, wondering how he’d managed to construct a coherent thought. Her gaze drifted downwards, locking on the bulge in his trousers. One hand squeezed his thigh reflexively as she fought the urge to reach out and grab. She didn’t notice his hand until it tilted her chin back up to face him.

 

“Bella, if this isn’t- if you didn’t think this through- it’s ok.”

 

“No.”

 

 She wanted to cringe at the need in her voice, but she was too busy pushing down on his thighs, clambering up so that her legs settled on either side of him to achieve cringing at the same time. And to a point it was true- her imagination had never done justice to _this_. Her hands trailed up his arms, coming to rest on his shoulders.

 

“Part-time, full-time- the benefits package is the same.”

 

She saw amusement -and maybe something else, something darker- flicker in his eyes as he stretched up to kiss her again, his hands reaching round to cradle her backside. His tongue dipped into her mouth, tasting, feeding her want. Her fingers traced along his jaw, wanting to learn him, to memorize everything in case this was the only chance that she got. She nipped as his bottom lip as he pulled away, her hands moving up to tangle in his hair. He groaned.

 

“Package is good. Your ass is great.”

 

The comment was emphasized with a squeeze as he leaned forward again, sucking at her earlobe, kissing down her neck as her head fell back and the squeeze shifted her firmly onto his thighs. He grunted, reaching between them to adjust himself.

 

Then both of his hands were between them, reaching for the buttons on her shirt. Her fingers were back on his jaw, caressing him as he concentrated on slipping each button free, pulling her shirt back. She watched his eyes glaze as he stared, the lace of her bra doing nothing to hide the sharp points of her nipples. She patted herself on the head for her lingerie choice (figuratively, at least, since she had more important literal places to put her hands). They might not have made it this far if she hadn’t known she was wearing the one that made her feel confident, sexy: black lace with pink ribbons that seemed to hold her breasts in place.

 

“So hot.”

 

It was his turn to groan, his fingers reaching out to pull at her nipples through the fabric. She tried to balance herself over him, reaching to pull her shirt the rest of the way off as his mouth followed his hands, soft and wet through the rustle of the lace _._ She moaned, fisting her hands in his hair to hold him to her, rocking against him, his hardness making her want and want and want more and more.

 

“Matching set,” she breathed wetly into his ear.

 

He groaned again, leaning back as if to catch his breath.

 

“Not nice…to kill…the part time boyfriend.”

 

She kissed his forehead. “Sorry.”

 

 _Except she wasn’t._ She thrilled to every one of his reactions, and the fact that though part-time, this might not be a one-time deal. She’d never have believed he’d be looking at her like this, almost desperate as she loosened his tie and started to undo his shirt. She’d never have believed that her fingers would remain steady enough to complete the task. She’d certainly never dared to imagine them like this without the lubrication of a lot more alcohol than they’d had this evening.

 

His groan answered her whimper as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders and he pulled her against him, lace and skin against chest and hair and muscle. His hands grabbed at her ass again as his tongue met her neck and she moved to undo his belt, the button, the zip, as he groaned again in relief at the release of pressure.

 

“Stand up, Bella.”

 

She wasn’t sure that she could, though she was certain she couldn’t refuse him. She wobbled back, forcing her weight onto shaky legs.

 

“Pants. Off. Now.”

 

She took a deep breath, unbuttoning, unzipping, letting them pool around her ankles. She moved to step out of them.

 

“Turn round.”

 

She turned in a slow circle, hearing his mumbled “fuck” as he saw the cross of pink ribbon under black lace across her ass. As she turned back her eyes fixated on his hand, palming his still boxer-covered dick through the cotton.

 

“Where did you come from?” he muttered, and she forced her eyes to his face, seeing how they raked across her body.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

_Stellar response, Bella._

Her body ached to be touched as she stood awkwardly, forcing her hands to remain at her sides as he stared.

 

“Where….” she started to ask.

 

“Right here.”

 

His hands pulled her forward again, settling her over him, reaching out to pull down the cups of her bra to suckle her breasts free of obstacles. She reached down, her hands running over his chest, through the sparse hair that tickled her fingers and palms, down to pull him out of his underwear.

 

_Hot. And silk. And hard. So, so hard._

His hips shifted as she stroked him, once, twice, his own hand reaching between her legs to push her soaked underwear to one side. She whimpered as his fingers found her, sliding slick between her lips, slipping wetly inside.

 

“So wet.  So good.”

 

His lips were on her neck again, latching on as she started to grind on his hand. “Want…want…want…”

 

She was chant-whispering, the word on her lips with every breath.

 

“Want. What. Bella?”

 

He didn’t sound any more lucid than she did. She pushed her chest forward, rubbing it on his.

 

“You.” She moaned it into his skin.

 

He reached to the side, fumbling for the pocket of his trousers, pulling out the foil packet she’d half-expected, wholly-hoped he’d have about his person.

 

“Boy scout?” she managed ironically.

 

“What?”

 

He grinned, and she thought he might be blushing.

 

“Bathroom vending machine after dinner. Just in case.”

 

He tore the foil as she tried to move to remove her underwear. He paused, condom at his tip. “Where are you going?”

 

“Taking…off…”

 

“Those stay on,” he all but growled. She stopped, staring as he rolled the latex over his dick. He reached for her again with one hand and she tried to steady herself, hands on his shoulders as she balanced herself over him again. She almost cried out as his dick nudged her clit.

 

“Steady.”

 

It was almost a gasp as she looked down between them, seeing him line himself up with his hand between her legs, her underwear pushed to the side. She let herself drop down, a tiny bit, taking in just his tip. His hands moved back to her ass, kneading and squeezing as he guided her down a tiny bit more, gasping as he started to push further in, stretching her, groaning into her neck.

 

“Tight.”

 

His eyes closed as she slid down, his hips bucking up into her until he was fully inside. She felt herself clenching around him, a reflex every time he withdrew even a little bit to thrust back in.

 

“Edward.”

 

The moan was needier than any sound she’d made so far, but it was almost drowned out by the grunt that accompanied his every thrust. She ground down onto him, her hips meeting his with sounds that should have been embarrassing but only seemed to make her hotter, wetter.

 

“Bella.”

 

His answering groan was equally desperate as he leaned his head up to suck at her nipple again, pulling one of her hands down from his head to lead it between him, so that they were both tracing over her clit, slipping down to feel him covered by her wet as he disappeared inside. She could feel it building, feel him hardening further as every panted breath became a moan. And then she was falling, clutching at him as her moans turned into breathless cries.

 

He let her ride the ecstasy out almost gently, her frenzy tailing off before he started thrusting harder. She watched as his eyes glazed further, leaning back to give him more room for leverage, running her hands over her breasts, tweaking her nipples, watching him watch.

 

“So. Fucking. Hot.”

 

The words were almost lost in an unintelligible groan as she felt him pulse inside her, running her hands back over his shoulders as she held him to her, absorbing his last erratic pumps.

 

As the need began to fade she let herself fall against him. _This was where the awkwardness would begin. Right now, while he was still inside her._

He shifted her gently, pulling out carefully.

 

“Bathroom?”

 

“Upstairs. First door on the left.”

 

With him out of the room she adjusted her bra so that she was covered, pulling her shirt back on and buttoning a couple of the buttons. She had no doubt she looked exactly as she’d expect after that, her make up probably smeared all over her face. She’d like to join him in the shower and take him to bed for round 2.

 

_Maybe no strings meant she could ask for anything she wanted. She just couldn’t be upset if he didn’t want the same things. The same everythings._

With a deep breath, she stood up. She’d made it halfway up the stairs when he appeared from the bathroom, his pants zipped but unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips with his belt still undone. She felt saliva pool in her mouth. Once had most certainly not been enough. She wanted to be all over him.

 

The post coital pinkness in his cheeks seemed to deepen under her stare. He pushed a hand through his hair. “So…what now?”

 

She tried to shrug, but the boneless feeling in her legs seemed to extend to her shoulders. “That’s up to you.”

 

He took a step towards her as she reached the landing. ‘Well, if I was a full time boyfriend, we’d go bed and see what happened next.”

 

“Same benefits,” she whispered shyly.

 

“And you’d be naked.”

 

She’d never felt so uninhibited. She unbuttoned the shirt and let it drop, before slowly reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. Her panties were last, a soaked, sticky mess to be pushed to the floor.

 

“That…” He took another step closer- “Was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

She bit her lip. “If you were a full time boyfriend, you’d be naked too.”

 

He grinned. “Bedroom then?”

 

“Bedroom.”

 

She could still feel the twitches between her legs every time she moved, tiny reminders of her orgasm. She didn’t want them to stop. But this felt different- more strangely intimate than actual fucking. Deliberate, now, instead of frenzied. She took his hand and led him into her room, pulling back the covers and sliding onto the bed. She scooted back against the pillows, watching as he discarded the remainder of his clothes, taking something from his pocket and putting it on the nightstand. Naked, he was everything she’d never dared to imagine. He was already semi-erect again, and she found it more erotic than the few other men she’d seen at full-mast.

 

“You like?”

 

Cocky was the only way to describe him, as he wrapped his fist around it.

 

“More than like.”

 

Honesty had- _inexplicably_ \- got her this far. She’d rely on it a little longer.

 

He joined her on the bed, stretching out, rolling onto his side. She lay stiffly on her back, knowing that he was watching her now. His hand reached out, tracing over her still-sensitive body, making her arch and whimper. _So needy. Still so needy._

“Come here,” he whispered, his hand turning her as he rolled onto his back. “Just lie on me for now, and we’ll see what happens.”

 

It was the best offer she’d had in… _ever_ …she thought as she let her head fall into the crook of his shoulder, pressing her lips to his neck, wanting to run her tongue along his jaw. She’d never been comfortable with anyone in her bed. Maybe it was that there were no expectations. Taking what you could get seemed like the epitome of satisfaction. For now, anyway.

 

**  
**

**  
**


	2. Tree Trimming

 

It had been three weeks since she’d come to the part time arrangement with him. Three weeks in which it had steadily grown colder as winter set in. Three weeks in which, despite their arrangement, Edward hadn’t been around to warm her up.

 

Bella pushed open the door to her cold, dark, oh-so-empty house and sighed. She was beginning to regret that whole idea. She’d only tried to call on him once since their change of status. He hadn’t been available. To be fair he’d tried her once, too–but she’d had to turn him down in favour of a girls’ night out for her friend Angela’s birthday. She tossed her keys on the hall table in exasperation. It wasn’t like she’d needed another girls’ night out. Especially when they always ended with her coupled-up friends trying to point out what they considered to be suitable targets for her attention.

 

Maybe she’d have seen him if she’d just called on him for the– _ahem_ –benefits he was offering. But she hadn’t wanted to cloud her definition of “part time boyfriend”. In her mind it wasn’t just about those benefits–and until the “friends” part was properly established she wasn’t going to go there. _Even if she wanted to_. It had been a long, long time, and now that her body was reminded of what it had been missing, the last three weeks had seemed as long as the three dry years that had preceded them. She kicked off her shoes with another sigh and slumped onto the sofa.

 

It wasn’t the best place to collapse if she didn’t want to be reminded of how they’d reached their understanding. She squirmed at the memory, reaching for the remote control, instantly horrified when the Coca-Cola holiday commercial blasted into sound and light on the screen. _December already_. Which meant it was time to think about decorating the tree. And dragging the decorations down from the attic. And hauling her rocking chair upstairs to make room for the tree in her living room.

 

These were perfectly reasonable chores for which a part time boyfriend could be of help. And once the tree was decorated she could think of a few ways to start the holiday celebrations. Her eyes flickered over to the hearth, empty yet, picturing it with a fire blazing in it. Picturing herself with him in front of it, the room lit by fire and fairy lights.

 

That image alone was enough to make her reach for her phone.

 

“Hello?”

 

His voice in her ear was unreasonably appealing.

 

“Hi, Edward?”

 

She had no idea why she sounded like a question mark. It was his phone and his voice: obviously it was him.

 

“Bella.”

 

Of course he had no trouble placing her. Caller ID would have given her away. Not that she could be making this call under some kind of secret identity because that would defeat the point entirely. But it did take away her option for pretending she was someone else, someone who had the wrong number, someone who’d randomly dialled him while trying to order a pizza.

 

“Are you still there?”

 

She couldn’t blame him for sounding bewildered at her silence. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’re busy on Friday evening?”

 

“As your part-time boyfriend would I have the right to ask why?”

 

The chuckle in his voice made her smile.

 

“I guess. To help with decorating my Christmas tree?”

 

“Is that a euphemism?”

 

She giggled. “No. But if you want it to be we can talk about decorating your Christmas tree afterwards.”

 

The words were out while she was fighting the urge to clap a hand over her mouth and stop them. She didn’t say things like that. Except that she had and he was laughing and answering.

 

“I’d be happy to help. Do you have a tree?”

 

She nodded, which was clearly going to be helpful to someone on the other end of a phone line. _Words, Bella. Use them._ “Yes. It’s in the attic.”

 

“What? I’m not helping you with some artificial tree. You need a real one.”

 

“I don’t want needles dropping all over the floor. I don’t need a real tree.”

 

“Oh yes, you do.”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“You do.”

 

What she didn’t need was to be reciting pantomime lines with him. She bit back the last of her “Oh no I don’ts” and gave in.

 

“Fine. You sound exactly like a full time boyfriend, by the way. Always thinking they know what’s best. My artificial tree has served me well for the past decade.”

 

“Well, once you’ve had the real thing you’ll never go back to fake.”

 

For some reason she found herself blushing bright crimson, wondering if he’d guessed about the other fake things stashed in her nightstand. She cleared her throat.

 

“I take it you want to help pick this tree out then?”

 

“Of course.” Will I pick you up at six?”

 

“Um–well–I might need some help getting rid of a chair from where the tree’s going to go. And getting the decorations out of the attic.”

 

“So what you’re saying is this might be a full day activity?”

 

She could hear the smile in his voice. It didn’t stop her shutting her eyes tight against the heat that rose in her face at the fear she might be taking advantage of him.

 

“You don’t have to–I mean, if it’s too much hassle I can…”

 

“Bella.”

 

She held her breath as he cut her off. “Saturday morning. I’ll be there at 10am. And just so you know, I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“Good.”

 

She ended the call, reminding herself that he wasn’t her boyfriend, that he didn’t have to agree to anything he didn’t want to do. She’d drive herself crazy if she started second guessing their arrangement. Actually, she might drive herself crazy anyway but the one thing she needed to keep right at the front of her mind was that Edward didn’t owe her anything. In a way that made what they were doing feel more real than her last broken relationship, when she’d known her boyfriend was only hanging around of out a sense of duty. And even if it wasn’t real, this arrangement, it made her want to do nice things for Edward too.

 

She didn’t sleep on Friday night imagining what some of those nice things might be.

 

He was there on the dot of ten a.m., grin shining under the black beanie that covered his hair, his black coat and gloves almost a disguise. She giggled as she opened the door.

 

“I wouldn’t want to meet you on a dark night.”

 

“What?”

 

He looked down at himself and laughed. “I suppose I do look a bit…”

 

“Menacing?”

 

 _Or something._ If she was being honest she knew wouldn’t mind meeting him on a dark night, as long as she knew it was him. He pulled his hat off, running his hand over it in a forlorn attempt to put some order into it.

 

“So, where are these decorations? And did you say something about moving a chair?”

 

“Yes, I’ll show you.”

 

She led him into her living room, willing her blush to remain inward as he tossed his coat over the back of her sofa.

 

“Oh, nice chair,” he said appreciatively, looking at the leather rocker that was probably the obvious thing to be moved. “Didn’t notice it the last time I was here.”

 

“Can’t think why,” she said smartly, ignoring the fact that surely her reddening cheeks were making her reaction to that known.

 

“Guess I was distracted,” he said, his eyebrows moving in some way that she assumed was an attempt to hypnotise her. _An attempt that was working_. She cleared her throat.

 

“Well, it needs to go upstairs. To the guest room. There isn’t really room for it here with the tree as well.”

 

“Right. Can you get the doors?”

 

She scurried to hold the door open, though she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d managed to deal with the doors as well as carry the chair, given the ease with which he seemed to be manoeuvring it. She headed quickly up the stairs, glad that the chair was blocking his view of her rear.

 

“Just in here.”

 

“Good.”

 

He set it down with some relief, just inside the door, sinking into it with a sigh.

 

“It’s a shame to have to hide it away–it really is comfortable.”

 

“I know.” She eyed the chair regretfully. It felt like an excellent excuse for eyeing him since he was mostly blocking her view of it.

 

“Do you now?”

 

He grabbed her wrist suddenly, tugging her so that she fell with a yelp onto his lap.

 

“Want to tell me what you want for Christmas, Bella?”

 

His hand running up her thigh to cup her ass made her shiver. She tried to cover it with a push to his chest.

 

“You sound like the most perverted Santa in the world. Come on–we need to get the decorations and I’d guess we want to look for a tree before it gets too busy.”

 

He pouted. “Fair enough.” He got to his feet, lifting her with him before he set her back down. “Now, how do we do this?”

 

“Maybe if I go up into the attic and hand you the boxes to take down?”

 

“Would that work?”

 

“Yes–they’re not heavy, just awkward.”

 

Of course, there was nothing in his way now to stop him seeing her climb the ladder in front of him. She felt as exposed in her skinny jeans and heavy sweater as she had in her underwear or less the last time he’d been in her house. And then the sweater was feeling heavier and thicker and far too warm. She was glad for the cool air of the attic on her overheated face.

 

“God, it’s dark up there.”

 

“Aargh!”

 

She squealed as his voice came from right behind her. “Why did you have to make me jump?”

 

He burst into laughter. “Why did you not think I’d be here? And seriously, who else is likely to be on this ladder with you?”

 

She huffed as she switched on the light and looked back to where his head was poking through the trapdoor.

 

“I don’t know. Just don’t do it again.”

 

“Got it.” He grinned. “Startling Bella is to be avoided. Making mental note. Although it is fun.”

 

“Ready for the first box?”

 

Her voice was muffled behind it.

 

“Ready.”

 

She was relieved his balance seemed to be better than hers. Really, it was little short of a miracle that she hadn’t killed herself getting the boxes down–and putting them back up–last year. She hoped Edward would be around in his current capacity for long enough to help her replace them this time too.

 

She followed him downstairs once the two boxes of decorations were out of the attic. He grinned at her, waving an arm towards the space that now awaited the tree. “So, you know what size it needs to be? There’s nothing worse than getting home and discovering it won’t fit–I don’t want to have to cut it down to size. I’m afraid you wouldn’t find my topiary skills to your satisfaction.”

 

She couldn’t help snorting. “Yes, Edward Scissorhands, I have the measurements on my phone.”

 

“Good then. Shall we go?”

 

He was already bundling himself back into his coat, the beanie pulled down on his head. “If you haven’t been outside yet today, I’ll warn you it’s freezing.”

 

“Thanks. I think I’m covered.”

 

Edward turned to look back her and laughed. She looked slightly sheepish, pulling the boots that she usually kept for actual snowy weather over her jeans. She’d already topped her puffer jacket with a knitted red scarf and hat.

 

“Look at you in your little hat–how cute are you?”

 

“You’re wearing a hat too, you know.”

 

“Mine’s not as cute as yours.”

 

“Don’t bet on it.”

 

Their eyes met for one moment and he put his arm round her, kissing her on the top of her be-hatted head. “Come on. Let’s go pick you out a tree.”

 

She hesitated as he opened the door of his car for her. “Will it fit?”

 

“It did the last time.” She flushed in a way that owed nothing to the wintry air.

 

“I’m talking about the tree.”

 

He snickered. “So am I.” He rolled his eyes as she opened her mouth to clarify further. “This will not be the first Christmas tree I’ve transported. Trust me.”

 

“I do.”

 

She’d spoken before she realised the truth of what she was saying. Even if she only got him in little increments of time, even if that was all either of them wanted, it didn’t alter the fact that she did trust him.

 

“Good.”

 

He closed the door behind her and moved swiftly to the driver’s side.

 

“So, the best retail lot’s about twenty minutes from here. Are you ok with that? And I hope you don’t have any fixed ideas about what kind of a tree you want because there’s really only one option if you want a decent shape that doesn’t drop needles everywhere.”

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“Colorado Blue Spruce. Do you have a stand or do you want a living tree?”

 

“I hadn’t even thought about a stand.”

 

She avoided any discussion of the type of tree. She knew, of course, that there were different varieties of Christmas tree for sale, but she’d never had cause to know what they were or research which would be best.

 

“All right. A living tree would be best, I think.”

 

Bella giggled suddenly. “I hadn’t realised when I asked you to help with this that you were some kind of tree guru. I’m beginning to see why you were so disgusted when I said I had an artificial tree.”

 

“It’s a science, picking the right one. Or maybe an art. Alice would say it’s an art. And it’s absolutely worth it.”

 

“Alice?”

 

His smile widened. “My little sister. Actually, she has me brainwashed about the Colorado blue. Although I think she’s probably right about it.”

 

“Do you guys pick out a tree every year? Are you going to have to do this twice?”

 

He shook his head. “I won’t be home in time this year–I’m working right up until Christmas Eve. I’m kind of glad you asked me to help with yours, to be honest. It doesn’t sound like a very manly thing to say, but I’ll miss not doing it at home. It was one of our traditions–my mom took us every year. It was kind of a big deal.” He laughed a little nervously, one hand going to adjust his hat. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t need to hear all of that.”

 

“No, it’s fine. Makes me feel better about dragging you into my decorating day.”

 

“Like I said, it’s not a hardship. My iPod’s in the glove compartment by the way–there’s a Christmas playlist on it if you want to plug it in.”

 

“Really? I had no idea you were such a holiday fan.”

 

He shrugged. “I guess we don’t know that much about each other. This arrangement kind of skips over the ‘getting to know you’ parts. It’s more about activity, I suppose.”

 

Her mind clouded with thoughts of activities she hoped were in the not too distant future. She shook her head to clear it. “Well, if you want to tell me about your Christmas traditions...”

 

“There’s not much to tell. I think my mom was keen to make as much as she could of the holidays. My dad–well, he died when I was ten. Alice was eight. But he was in a wheelchair for a long time before that–he couldn’t exactly take us to cut down our own tree or anything. So going to the lot to pick a tree out became our thing–and they made a big deal of me being like the man of the house, so I dealt with the lights.”

 

Bella couldn’t help her giggle. “I think they conned you–the lights are the most hateful part.”

 

“I didn’t mind.”

 

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

 

“It was a long time ago.”

 

“Still, it must have been hard.”

 

“It was. For all of us. It still is.”

 

His voice was clipped, and she didn’t push him, reaching instead for his iPod and plugging it in. “Any particular song you want to hear?”

 

“Surprise me.”

 

She scrolled down and hit play. He grinned as the first notes of _“Fairytale of New York”_ sounded.

 

“Good choice.”

 

“It’s a classic.”

 

Neither of them said much for the rest of the drive, though Bella chanced the odd glance in his direction. It would have been impossible not to. Without his hidden hair to distract her, she was struck again by the keen lines of his jaw, the sharpness of his profile undiminished by the light scruff that covered it. It looked like he didn’t shave on weekends, and she liked that. There was no denying that Edward bundled up in winter casual was every bit as enticing as Edward in a suit. She gulped, forcing herself to look away again before he’d catch her staring.

 

She found it hard to fathom why he was still single, though she’d never heard much talk about him being involved with anybody. Maybe he didn’t want to be. Maybe part time was all he had to offer. _Just like her_.

 

“And we’re here.”

 

“Yay!”

 

She let out a feeble cheer accompanied by an even weaker fist pump. He snickered.

 

“You’re still not sold on the idea of real over fake, are you?”

 

“Or maybe I could see for myself that we’re here,” she retorted, waving a hand in the general direction of the sign that said ‘Christmas Trees For Sale.’

 

“Right.”

 

She ignored his sarcasm, clambering out of the car and waiting for him to join her.

 

“It just seems like a lot of hassle. Is it really worth it?”

 

 “Of course it’s worth it. Do you want all the ecological reasons, or just the aesthetic ones?”

 

“Big words, Edward. I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”

 

His smile was bright enough to blind her. “I’ll give you more than words, baby.”

 

She laughed. “Are you really quoting Extreme songs, _baby_?”

 

He huffed good-naturedly, throwing his arm over her shoulder as they headed for the entrance. “Fine, laugh at me. All you need to know is that yes, it’s worth it and you’ll be thanking me all night long.”

 

“Let’s hope so,” she muttered. For your sake as well as mine.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

They made it through the entrance to be confronted by a maze of trees.

 

“What we’re looking for is a Colorado Blue Spruce,” he told her again.

 

“Got it.” She looked round, although frankly she wouldn’t recognise a Colorado Blue Spruce if it fell on top of her head. “What would it look like, exactly? And why are we looking for it, specifically?”

 

“Exactly and specifically, huh? It has a narrow pyramidal form and blue-green needles. It’s usually symmetrical and, like I said earlier, it has excellent needle retention.”

 

She stared at him, mouth slightly agape. “Where did you learn this stuff?”

 

“Would you believe I considered forestry as a career?”

 

“No?”

 

“You’re right. Though landscaping or something doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. As for where I learned all this stuff, I did mention my sister Alice, right?”

 

“You did. But where did she learn it all?”

 

“Alice is… Well, she’s _Alice._ ”

 

“Clear as mud. Thank you.”

 

“She can be a bit obsessive about getting things right. Lots of research.”

 

Bella nodded, though the answer sounded vague and his eyes hadn’t quite met hers.

 

“Well, you should be able to find one easily then. Lead the way!”

 

Half an hour later Edward had declared they’d found their tree. Something about the whole process made her think of trying on wedding dresses. Not that she’d ever been in that position, obviously, but the whole idea that you’d know when you found _the one_ seems to kick into play. She shook her head slightly. Probably not the best analogy to share with someone who was only in your life part time.

 

“You’ll need something to plant it in,” he observed.

 

She looked round, not particularly enjoying how clueless. “Like a tub or a planter or something?”

 

“Yes. They have some over there. How about the green one? That way it won’t take away from your decorations.”

 

“More Alice advice?”

 

“No. That one’s all me.”

 

He looked unfeasibly pleased with himself at that.

 

She gave in easily. “Fine. A green one.”

 

Another ten minutes saw them back in the car, the tree secured, at least mostly, within it. Its scent was almost overwhelming in the confines of the enclosed space. It wasn’t something she’d ever been used to.

 

“So, was that really so bad?”

 

“No,” she admitted reluctantly. It wasn’t something she’d have any inclination to do alone, though. Which made it one of the activities for which he–or someone–would always be required.

 

“Wait until you see it fully decorated. I guarantee you’ll love it.”

 

“Are you sure it’s strong enough to hold my decorations?”

 

“Why–are they made of lead?”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s one of the strongest trees, Bella. It’ll be fine.”

 

“Whatever you say.”

 

“Are you going to be as accommodating for the rest of the day?” he teased.

 

“Depends.”

 

“On what?”

 

“On how good you are with the lights.”

 

“So, that’s a yes?”

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there. Let’s just wait and see.”

 

He smirked. “Oh, believe me, you won’t be disappointed.”

 

She didn’t doubt that at all.

 

When they arrived back at her house, she found herself again concentrating on not falling on her backside as she exited the car. She’d made it to the door with some relief when she became aware that he wasn’t following.

 

“You probably want to plant it in your little planter before we take it in. You don’t want to end up with soil all over your floor.”

 

“Fine.” She took a couple of uncertain steps back to where he was trying to haul the tree out of the rear of the car and shivered.

 

“Sorry to keep you in the cold,” he said, the warmth in his eyes heating her immediately. “But this bit really is a two-person job.”

 

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I did ask for your help. And when we get it inside we should probably have lunch before we do anything else. I made chicken soup last night.”

 

His eyes lit up a little more. “Sounds great. Now, can you hold it here?”

 

He’d set the tree into the planter and went to slice off the covering on the root ball as she held the tree in an upright position. There was no reason–or at least no good reason–for her to find the sight of him wielding a knife so…well, _hot._ The knife-wielding was probably just this moment’s display of general male competence at life. She’d always been a sucker for any sign of capability.

 

“Bella?”

 

“Huh?”

 

He grinned up her. She hadn’t even noticed he’d finished filling the planter with the bag of whatever kind of soil he’d deemed suitable. She’d been too busy staring at his oh-so-capable hands.

 

“Do you have a watering can? We need to water it a little.”

 

Something uncontrolled inside her skipped a beat at his repeated use of “we”. She refused to countenance the possibility that it was her heart, even if that would be acceptable if he was her boyfriend, even if right now he was. She’d have to deal with switching off her swooning when he left. She sighed. Even so, having him around part time was better than not having him around at all.

 

“Bella?”

 

He waved a hand in front of her face. “You can let go now.”

 

She dropped her hand from the tree. “Oh. Watering can. I have a little one inside. I’ll get it.”

 

“Good. And then we can see about this soup of yours while the tree settles in.”

 

It took her a few minutes to find her excuse for a watering can. It was only used occasionally in a forlorn effort to keep the odd indoor plant alive. Bella considered herself to have fingers of death where any kind of greenery was concerned. She wondered if it had really been wise to let Edward talk her into the real tree. _Poor tree._ And would he think worse of her when it inevitably died? She sighed again. It wasn’t like that would matter. Thinking highly of her wasn’t exactly a pre-requisite for what they had going on. Tolerating her and being available–and willing– were the only requirements. She just needed to remember that.

 

Edward laughed as she reappeared with the watering can. “What _is_ that?”

 

Bella attempted to scowl. “Don’t disrespect the watering can.”

 

It was slightly battered, with flowers painted over it. They had more life about them than any of the plants that she’d tried to tend with it, which was to say they were hideously ugly and of colours never found in nature.

 

 She cleared her throat. “My mom bought it for me. She says it’s important to keep living things around–to harness their energy or something.”

 

“Interesting idea. And yet you had an artificial tree.”

 

“Well, for the harnessing of the energy, it was necessary for the _things_ to stay alive.”

 

“You’re a plant killer?”

 

“They were suicidal.”

 

“And you helped them on their way?’

 

She shrugged. “Maybe. Which is why it would be best if you watered the tree.”

 

His gloved fingers brushed hers as he took the can from her. “Don’t worry–I won’t let you kill it before the holidays.”

 

“Good to know.”

 

She refrained from pointing out he’d need to visit it often, possibly daily, to make sure of that, watching instead as he finished watering.

 

“Done. Now, where is this soup of which you speak?”

 

“Don’t sound so excited by the soup. It’s nothing special.”

 

“Do you know when I last had home-made soup?”

 

“No. When?”

 

He grinned. “I can’t remember.”

 

This time he did follow her into the house, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it over the banister in the hall. She resisted from running her hands into his hat-flattened hair. Hopefully there would be time for that later.

 

“Um–you know where the bathroom is if you want to wash up. I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

 

“Great.”

 

She liked the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled, settling into the faint lines that told her his smiles were real. She washed her own hands at the kitchen sink and set her cauldron of chicken soup on the stove to re-heat. There was no need to tell him she’d been up since the crack of dawn to make bread, though she’d leave it for him to slice. She’d rather not lose a digit at this point of the day.

 

“Something smells good,” he observed, reappearing in the doorway, his hair marginally tamed, still cosy-looking in his cable sweater.

 

“I just hope it tastes as good,” she muttered. “Here, you want to slice the bread? You can take the butter in to the table, too, and what do you want to drink?”

 

“Slow down, Bella.” He came up behind her, his hand warm on her shoulder, his lips a momentary brush against her temple. “You’re rambling. And water’s fine.”

 

She took a deep breath. “Glasses are in that cupboard. And there’s a jug of water in the fridge.”

 

It wasn’t like she was cooking a four-course meal, but she liked the way he just got on with helping without getting in her way. It felt almost like teamwork by the time they were sitting down to eat.

 

“Tastes really good,” he said, almost around the first mouthful. “Why is it again you’re single?”

 

“Right now I’m not,” she said archly.

 

“Of course.” He shook his head. “Sorry. Stupid question for a part-time boyfriend, at least while he’s on the clock.”

 

“And not one I have an answer to at any time of day.” She chomped through the crust on her slice of bread. “Seriously, though, do you ever look at some of the people you know who are married and wonder who on earth married them when you’re still single?”

 

“But then you look at who married them and you realise it would be a cold day in hell before you settled for that.”

 

She stirred her soup slowly. “I guess. But sometimes it feels like even those people have everything all figured out and I don’t.”

 

“Marriage doesn’t mean you have everything all figured out. It just means you have someone else to hide behind.”

 

“Well, this is depressing.”

 

“True. Sorry. I think it was my fault. And there’s no excuse for it right now.”

 

“No. Not right now.”

 

“So…the soup really is great. And the bread. Did you make it too?”

 

She nodded.

 

He grinned. “Impressive.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She managed to keep her smile small, but it took effort. She liked his compliments. He nudged her leg with his foot.

 

“So, you heard my Christmas traditions. Are there any stories behind your decorations?”

 

She ducked her head. “Not really.”

 

“Does that mean if I have questions about any of them you’re not going to answer?”

 

“That probably depends on the questions. Actually, you probably won’t have any. There might be stories but it won’t be obvious if there are. I’m kind of crazy traditional about Christmas decorations.”

 

“Is there a story behind that?”

 

“Maybe. My mom didn’t exactly get tradition. One year we had a holiday cactus.”

 

Edward laughed. “I’d like to have seen that.”

 

She huffed. “You only think that. We were living in Phoenix at the time, but even so it was just wrong. After that I insisted on a proper tree with proper decorations.”

 

“If it was artificial it wasn’t a proper tree.”

 

She rolled her eyes, mostly for his benefit. “Are we back to that? I got the tree–now we just have to decorate it.”

 

He grinned. “Is that your way of saying ‘get to it, Edward’?”

 

“Well, if that’s the way you want to put it…” She knew what else she wanted him to get to. She didn’t know if she wanted him to pick up on the teenage innuendo that was spinning in her head or not, so her face reacted in the only way it could, turning a healthy shade of red.

 

“Are you a little warm, there, Bella?”

 

“I guess the soup heated me up.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

The unconvinced tone of his hum merely brightened her cheeks. “If you’re finished I’ll clear up here and you can start on the lights.”

 

“Right. I’m good at lights.”

 

She looked at him as if he’d gone slightly insane. “Nobody’s good with lights. They make people want to sit on the floor and cry. Every year.”

 

“Aw, Bella.” He grinned as he stood up and stretched, and again she couldn’t help staring. “Trust me,” he said for the second time.

 

“I do,” she repeated.

 

The no-commitment, part-time thing was oddly helpful in silencing her doubts. She’d never had any kind of relationship where she knew the other person was there simply because he wanted to be.

 

“Good. And obviously if there’s a problem, it’s the fault of your lights.”

 

“Obviously.” She stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips as he passed.

 

The move was unplanned, almost making her second guess herself as she carried their plates to the sink. But then if he was here, he was hers to give or take affection as she wished. And boy, did she wish.

 

A little while later she found him sitting on the sofa, admiring his handiwork with the lights. She stopped in the doorway, amazed. He grinned back at her, smugly.

 

“Told you I was good.”

 

“Well, it’s always better when you prove it.” Sass and snark would get her everywhere. She hoped.

 

“I didn’t want to go any further without you. I wasn’t sure what your decorations might be hiding.”

 

She had a feeling he was teasing her, but if it made his face light up like that with his smile, he could tease her all day long.

 

“They have nothing to hide.” She busied herself with poking through the box. “Do you want to help?”

 

“I will if you like. But it’s kind of your turn. How about you shout if you need me? I’ll just be over here in charge of the holiday playlist.”

 

“Right.”

 

She felt utterly self-conscious as she sorted through the ribbons and garlands, then the baubles. Even if Edward’s sister thought tree decoration was an art, Bella concurred with Edward’s assessment that it was a science. A very precise science. She was aware of him watching her antics, probably with more than a little amusement.

 

“I never knew this took so much concentration.”

 

“I have a process,” she mumbled.

 

“How did you cope with the holiday cactus?”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

She sighed, wondering how much she could tell him before he’d become bored and leave.

 

“We moved around a lot when I was growing up. My mom wanted us to fit in where we were. Not so much with the neighbours, exactly–they all had nice normal fir trees. Or artificial ones. But with the nature or something if that makes sense.”

 

“Bit of an eco-warrior, your mom?”

 

“Bit of a hippy, you mean.” Bella smiled suddenly, pausing in her circles of the tree with a red garland. “Every year she insisted on buying me a bauble to remember where we were. I think she got completely fed up because I just kept picking red and gold–I was hoping the whole tree would be red and gold one day.”

 

“You’re getting there.”

 

“Oh, I’m there. She gave me all my red and gold stuff when I moved out. Obviously she knew I wanted it, but I think she wanted rid of it just as much.”

 

“Where is she now?”

 

“In Florida. Jacksonville. She moved there with my stepfather in my junior year of high school. I moved to my dad’s. He probably never bothered with a tree until I got there, but he was happy enough to go along with all the traditions I made up on the spot. As long as I cooked for him, he was happy.”

 

She was conscious that Edward’s eyes had never moved from her.

 

“Where was that?”

 

“Forks, Washington. He’s the chief of police there.”

 

“So how did you end up here?”

 

“What is this, twenty questions?”

 

“You don’t have to answer. Guess I’m just curious about my girlfriend.”

 

“Part-time,” she reminded him.

 

“This time.”

 

She couldn’t read his eyes.

 

“I went to Northwestern. And I just wanted someplace for myself, you know? My dad was settled in Forks, but it wasn’t really home for me. As for my mom, she has a whole new life in Florida. I even have a half-sister there.”

 

His mouth opened as if he was going to ask another question, but he stopped. Instead he cleared his throat, and she was pretty sure what came next hadn’t been what he’d been going to ask.

 

“Are you going to either of them for Christmas?”

 

Bella shook her head. “I’m going to my friend Rosalie’s. She got married in the summer and she and her husband Emmett are hosting both their families. She decided that includes me.”

 

“That’s nice. Hey, you’re almost done.”

 

“Nearly. You want to give me a hand with the star for the top of it?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Instead of taking the star she held out to him, he grabbed her round the waist and lifted her a little.

 

She yelped.

 

“Go on, Bella. You need to put the star on your first real tree.”

 

She reached out with the star and crowned it. “Done.”

 

He lowered her gently, letting her slide down his body. At some point he’d taken off the sweater she’d found so appealing, and the sight of his bare arms under his T-shirt made her mouth water. She moved away awkwardly to hit the switch and the lights flickered into life.

 

“We did a good job,” she said delightedly.

 

“We did.” His arms went back around her, pulling her back against him as his lips went to her hair. She found herself relaxing against him. “The real tree looks nice. Thanks, Edward.”

 

“Anytime. What’s next on the festive spirit agenda?”

 

_You._

She’d like to say it but maybe it wasn’t a word that fitted into their current situation. “You want to watch a movie?”

 

“Is that part of your Christmas tradition?”

 

“Usually it’s _Love Actually._ But we don’t have to.”

 

“We can if you want.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

She held her breath, scared he’d say he just wanted to go home now he’d done what he agreed to and helped her.

 

But he didn’t answer, his head dropping onto her shoulder , his lips running along her neck.

 

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Edward.”

 

He stood straight and stepped back. “Sorry. I didn’t know you had a timetable for that kind of thing. You’ve just been hopping round that tree with your little butt taunting me for the past hour and…”

 

She didn’t give him a chance to answer, her butt brushing–only slightly intentionally–against him as she spun round, her hands reaching up into his hair to pull him down to meet her lips.

 

His tongue slid straight into her mouth, tangling and twisting with hers as his hands pulled her hips hard against him.

 

“You didn’t even have mistletoe,” he mumbled as he pulled back, giving her a chance to catch her breath.

 

“Didn’t know it was necessary.”

 

“It’s not.”

 

His head dipped to kiss her again, and this time it was clear he wasn’t stopping. His hands went lower to cup her ass, and she felt him harden against her as he pulled her tighter to him. With the way his hands were moving, she couldn’t doubt that all the time he’d been questioning her, he’d been watching her ass. The thought made her shiver.

 

“Cold?”

 

She shook her head, her hands making their way under his T-shirt, sliding up over the muscles of his back, round to his chest to rake her fingernails across his nipples. He groaned, letting go of her to pull the shirt over his head. She stepped in again, closer, always closer, pressing kisses to his neck, feeling the cords of his muscles as he stretched to give her greater access.

 

“Then take off your sweater.”

 

She raised her arms, looking him in the eye. He reached for the hem, tugging both sweater and T-shirt up, his hands skimming her sides, making her crave a more substantial touch. He dropped the clothing to the floor, his hands going straight to cup her face as she reached behind to undo the clasp of her bra, letting it fall and release her. She pressed against him, sighing into his kiss as her skin connected with his.

 

He pulled back again, slightly, his fingers tracing down her cheek, over her jawline, his eyes locked on hers in a way that made it impossible for her to look away. “Do you want to take this upstairs?”

 

She shook her head, not breaking her gaze. “No. I want it right here.”

 

“You have an unfulfilled Christmas tree fantasy?”

 

She smirked, rising up to catch his lips with hers. “Hey, I said we’d talk about decorating your tree after mine.”

 

“With a Bella on top?”

 

Her head dropped, suddenly shy at the thought of being so exposed to him, even though it was already getting dark outside and the chief light was the twinkly glow from the tree.

 

“If you want.”

 

He tilted her chin back up gently to look at him. “I want.”

 

His lips were back on hers before she could answer, his hands running up her arms to her shoulders and down, cupping her breasts, feeling their weight, his fingers finding her nipples, rolling and tweaking. She moaned into his mouth and his tongue thrust harder against hers.

 

Their pace changed instantly, her hands slipping quickly to his ass before moving round to undo his belt, the strong, supple loop of leather a glorious precursor for what she was trying to set free.  The clink of the metal as the buckle slid free sounded sexier against the backdrop of holiday music than anything she’d ever heard. And then there were buttons. Buttons that let her feel him, hard, straining against the opening of his jeans as she undid them, the cotton of his underwear beneath another tease. Her breathing laboured, looking down as his fingers ran over her waistband, slipping just inside as she inhaled sharply, her tummy sucking in unbidden, in a desperate effort to give him better access, a greater opportunity to touch her.

 

His fly was open now, and she could see the thick outline of his cock pushing out his boxers. She slid one finger into their opening, feeling the silken pulse of him against the single digit.

 

He groaned, leaning down to suck her nipple into his mouth, his hands pulling at her jeans, tugging them down when at last they were open, shoving at her underwear with them.

 

She’d wondered about picking lingerie today. But it would have been weird if her underwear had been overdressed, so she’d settled for simple black cotton. It didn’t feel like he had any complaints. One hand held his head to her breast, the other pushed at his boxers, letting him spring free, letting him slap against his stomach before she wrapped her hand round him, pumping slowly, waiting for his fingers to catch up as they made their way between her legs.

 

“How do you want this?” he asked, his breathing heavy against her skin.

 

“Right here.”

 

She grabbed a blanket from the sofa and threw it on the ground, taking his hand, kneeling, making him join her. And then she was kissing him, slowly, fiercely, pressing all of herself against him so that his cock was trapped between them. She throbbed, wanting to feel him right _there._

Her push on his chest met his pull, tumbling them gently to the floor with her on top. She sat up, her legs straddling his thighs, her hands all over his chest, lowering to his abs, while he stared at every motion of her breasts, pushing them together with his hands, pushing them up, together, massaging, making her feel empty. Making her need his friction. Making her need to be filled.

 

They both watched as her hands wrapped round his erection, her hips rising from their seat on his thighs. She watched the way his eyes stayed fixed on his cock as she slid down onto him, groaning as finally she covered him to the hilt. His hips bucked, almost involuntarily, stilling as he waited then for her to move.

 

She saw his hands, fisted now at his sides, waiting for her to take him in whatever way she wanted. She started to move slowly, deliberately, rising up so that he almost slipped out, sliding down again to sheath him balls deep within her. The part of her mind not wholly given over to pleasure wondered that she could give and take so much without commitment. She’d never thought she could, always believed that she would need more guarantees for intimacy, and yet it had never been more intimate than this. She leaned back, bracing herself on his thighs, moving more forcefully, always watching how his eyes stared at the place they were joined. His hands clamped down on her hips, giving him leverage to push up to a seated position, to rake his fingers down her spine, kiss her while she moaned and panted.

 

_“Edward.”_

He leaned into her further, catching a nipple between his teeth and tugging gently while she moved over him.

 

_“God…fuck…”_

_“Bel…la…”_

It was her hand that snuck between them, feeling him slide deeper, feeling him pull back. He fell back against the floor, watching her pleasure him and herself as her fingers brushed her clit and his cock, over and over. And then she was clenching round him, crying out, pulling his orgasm from him as he came with a long low moan of her name from deep in his throat.

 

She slumped down on top of him, her legs tightening round him before he could slip out.

 

“Stay.”

 

She adjusted herself against his chest, the sheen of sweat between them making her slide. Even soft, she’d rather keep him in her for as long as she could. He pulled the blanket round them before she could shiver.

 

“Bella?”

 

His voice was hoarse. “Just so you know, I needed that today as much as you. I don’t mean this, though… _Jesus, fuck, that was amazing…_ I needed all of it. You did me the favour today.”

 

She pressed a kiss to his throat. “I’m glad.”

 

Something caught her eye to the side and she giggled. “Do your boxers really have Christmas trees on them?”

 

“Hey…I had to dress for the occasion.”

 

“I like the way you’re dressed now.”

 

“You too.”

 

He kissed her languidly. She knew they needed to move, but somehow cleaning up didn’t seem as important as staying here, entwined with him, beside their tree. For this year, her tree was definitely theirs.

 

**  
**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. New Year's Eve

 

“Have you got plans yet for New Year’s Eve?” Rosalie asked her as they all slumped in front of the television after their Christmas dinner.

 

“I’m not sure yet.”

 

Bella was trying to hedge her bets. If Edward did have something to do, she wouldn’t be especially amused, but she’d rather stay home alone than play third wheel on Rose and Emmett’s first new year as a married couple.

 

“Well, you know you’re welcome to come up again. We could have a good night.”

 

“Of course we could,” Emmett added, a little too enthusiastically to be convincing.

 

Bella smiled. “I know, but I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

 

“Don’t be silly,” Rose said warmly. But knowing that she meant it–up to a point, anyway­, or at least that she _wanted_ to mean it–wasn’t going to change Bella’s mind.

 

“And you know I’m not a fan of New Year’s Eve, anyway.”

 

“Who is?” Emmett grumbled.

 

Rose gave him a warning look. “But you can’t spend it alone, Bella.”

 

“Don’t worry, Rose. I’m not planning on it.”

 

Not that she’d mind–or at least she wouldn’t have until her arrangement with Edward had kicked in. It was an understatement to say she didn’t like New Year’s Eve. She _hated_ it. All the forced over-exuberance and the pressure to make it the biggest, brightest night of the year invariably made her want to stay home. Plus it made her remember all the things she hadn’t achieved in the old year, like a stable relationship, or any kind of career advancement. Without fail, the end of the year made her feel like she’d spent the last twelve months stagnating. But none of that was as bad as the looks of pity her friends were giving her, as though she was putting a brave face on her loneliness. It would be better to be at home alone than have to deal with that. She chanced a look at her phone, willing Edward to call it and put her out of her misery.

 

 _Because she wanted him to call her_. She didn’t want to be the one demanding that his company on the worst night of the year for being single. She didn’t want to be judged for that, even if the rules dictated that their arrangement was judgement free. Anyway, after the Christmas tree, it was his turn. She refused to look too needy. Even if being needy was supposed to be judgement free, too.

 

“Bella?”

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

She jumped back into the present, realizing Rose was looking at her with eyebrows raised and a faintly amused look on her face.

 

“Oh, nothing. But if the New Year plans you don’t have are _that_ interesting, I look forward to hearing all about what didn’t happen afterwards.” She stood up, sauntering towards the kitchen. “Anyone want another drink?”

 

***

 

She was relieved to get home, having refused Rosalie’s entreaties to stay overnight. Although it did feel lonelier than usual, knowing that all her friends were cuddled up with their significant others, or at least at home with their families. She curled into herself under the covers of her bed in silent melancholy, shutting her eyes tight against the inexplicable tears that threatened to trickle out. It was a long time before she managed to lull herself to sleep.

 

She woke next morning to snow on the ground and a message on her phone.

 

_Merry Christmas, Bella. Are you available to make it a Happy New Year?_

For someone whose default setting as far as New Year was concerned was to hope to be allowed to pretend it didn’t exist, she was a little more excited than she should be, grin and blush spreading across her face with equal force.

 

**Merry Christmas, Edward. What do you have in mind?**

_My friend’s band is playing in a bar downtown. We’d have VIP access. If you’d like._

She chewed her nail. Of course she’d like. Apart from it being New Year, that was the kind of night out she’d always loved–live music and good company. The kind of night that had been in short supply for far too long, since everyone she knew had coupled up and decided nights in with a DVD were a better idea. These days her friends saved their money for big concerts and planned for them months in advance.

 

**I’d like.**

There was still one problem, though.

 

**What have you told your friends about us?**

The answer was swift. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

 

_Nothing._

She typed. **All right then.**

And hesitated. It was all she could say, because his invitation sounded so much better than her other options. Plus she’d get to spend New Year with him. But if his friends didn’t know anything about her, how was she supposed to behave? She didn’t want to look over-familiar, worried what they’d think of her then. But keeping him at arm’s length didn’t feel right either, not when while she was with him, she was his girlfriend. Her words stared at her from the screen of her phone, mocking her with the decision she knew she’d already made. Her thumb hovered for another second before it touched down, pressing ‘send’.

 

It turned out to be the first time ever she’d been glad to be going back to work between Christmas and New Year. Not that there was much work being done, what with the sitting around and eating chocolates and even getting to go home early. But it did give her something to do while she debated how she’d act and what she’d wear and what Edward’s friends would be like and what they’d think of her.

 

It was almost like preparing for a real first date.

 

Except that a real first date wouldn’t have come with a guarantee of them going home together afterwards. She’d never been the kind of girl to rush into that, except with Edward. And the arrangement had taken care of that, firing her into a ready-made relationship, bypassing the early stages. Still, the idea of a first date did send her out on her lunch hour in search of new underwear. New, lacy, very expensive underwear. Which obviously had nothing to do with the fact she thought he’d liked her lingerie the first time he’d had her undressed. No, she was simply following her mother’s rule.

 

_“You should always wear new undies on New Year’s Eve. It brings you luck.”_

 

However liberal, superstitious and hippy-ish Renee Swan was, somehow her daughter didn’t think she’d been referring to the kind of luck Bella was seeking from the shopping trip that led her to la Perla. Somehow she didn’t think it was what Charlie had intended her to spend the money he’d sent her for Christmas on, either. And somehow neither of those things was enough to stop her.

 

She stared into the mirror at the Mezzanotte bra and thong. Normally she considered her breasts to require the help of a push-up bra, anything to make them look slightly bigger. But they didn’t look bad through the scraps of Chantilly lace and tulle. Edward might like them. She’d just have to wear a heavy enough top to prevent her nipples poking out before she got him alone. She stripped back out of the fluttery, flimsy garments, her decision made at the thought of his reaction. She could hardly believe that she was buying lingerie for his benefit.

 

Well, partly for his benefit. Partly for her own confidence, too. She liked knowing she’d have something on that might cause his eyes to glaze over and him to need her, just for a little while. She’d like to know she had that power, especially if she had to deal with the stress of meeting his friends in an undefined capacity. 

 

“Pretty,” the sales girl observed as she wrapped them up.

 

“Expensive,” Bella grimaced, replacing the card she’d used to pay in her purse.

 

“But worth it,” the girl added.

 

She couldn’t help smiling at that, at the thought of his face when he’d see her in them. “Hopefully.” She took the bag as the salesgirl held it out. “Happy New Year.”

 

“Happy New Year.”

 

By the time she was waiting for Edward to pick her up on New Year’s Eve, the purchase had done its job and she was more excited than scared about the evening. She was wearing skinny jeans and flat ankle boots, prepared for comfort in case she was going to have to spend most of the evening on her feet. Her top was black, sleeveless, sequinned in front and polka-dot sheer at the back. He’d be able to see the straps of the bra from behind her–assuming she found the courage to remove her jacket. She was going with her short black leather jacket, partly because it went with the outfit and offered a fairly substantial cover up, but mostly because it was her sartorial equivalent of a comfort blanket. Apparently her nerves hadn’t disappeared entirely, after all. She wrapped a suitably festive red scarf round her neck as he buzzed her door, grabbing her keys from the table in the hall before she opened it.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi.”

 

She was sure her reaction to seeing him at her door was always going to be the same. There was a fluttering deep inside accompanied by a blush and a grin she was sure must be silly. But his smile seemed equally warm and his kiss on her cheek was a welcome promise.

 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked, and she could almost believe it was anxiously. The thought that he might also be nervous was oddly comforting. She checked her locking of the door and slipped a hand through his arm to walk to the waiting taxi.

 

“What sort of a part-time girlfriend would I be if I let you down on New Year’s Eve?”

 

“Oh, I’m not suggesting you stay home.” He grinned. “Or at least not unless I’m staying with you.”

 

She pretended to be offended. “Edward, it’s your friends’ band. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be impressed if you didn’t turn up on New Year just so you could get laid.”

 

His eyes widened. “Who said anything about getting laid?”

 

“Oh, Edward.” She slid in front of him as he opened the door to let her in. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

 

She thought she heard him mutter something, though she couldn’t tell what, as she moved across the seat to let him in after her.

 

“So, tell me about your friends,” she demanded when he’d given the driver the address. She’d noted that it was a bar she’d been to once or twice and liked. That made the prospect of having to deal with strangers slightly less scary.

 

“There isn’t much to tell. The band was started by Liam–he’s an old friend from high school. Actually, he’s probably my oldest friend. I don’t know the other guys that well­–there’s Peter and Riley and Garrett. They seem all right, though.”

 

“Well, that’s encouraging.” He smirked at her snark, sliding his arm across the back of the seat to curl around her. “Do any of them have girlfriends?”

 

“All except Riley. I’ve known Liam’s girlfriend, Siobhan, since high school too. The other two–Charlotte and Kate– seem like nice girls, but I don’t know them that well.”

 

“And you haven’t told them anything about us–this?” She tried amending her phrasing too late, remembering that an agreement was a “this” instead of an “us”.

 

“No. Liam’s bound to ask all kinds of questions anyway, so I figured the less he knows the better. Plus it’s not like we owe anybody an explanation. They’ll see you’re here with me and they can draw whatever conclusions they like. I really don’t care.”

 

It sounded cold. Clinical. Everything an arrangement like theirs deserved and nothing like it actually felt. She took a moment to digest what he’d said.

 

“If you’re happy with that, that’s fine with me,” she said eventually.

 

“Good.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze as the taxi stopped. “And we’re here.”

 

The butterflies in her stomach made an unwelcome reappearance as he turned to her once they were on the street.

 

“Ready?” He gave her waist a squeeze.

 

“Ready.”

 

“Edward Cullen,” he said to the doorman, and she watched as his name was checked on a list.

 

“Here.”

 

The doorman handed him a couple of wristbands and he took Bella’s arm, pushing back the sleeve of her jacket to tape the band around her.

 

“Not too tight?”

 

She flexed her wrist. “No.”

 

His fingers closed around it for a moment, and she was sure he could feel the faster beat of her pulse. There was something about the sight of his hand, so large in comparison to hers, that made the butterflies swoop and swoon inside, yet grounded her and made her feel safe. Cherished, even if it was only for a moment.

 

“Do me?”

 

“Uh- what?”

 

Her pulse raced and her eyes flashed up to his. He was laughing, holding out the second wristband in his other hand.

 

“This? Why, Bella, what did you think I meant?”

 

“Not funny,” she grumbled, taking the band from him and fixing it round his wrist, taping it carefully.

 

“No. Never funny.” His eyes were strangely intense as they met hers. He looked away quickly, taking her hand. “So, did you have a good Christmas?”

 

She shrugged, letting him lead her into the bar. “It was all right. What about you?”

 

“All right.” He frowned. “Things can get a little intense in my family.”

 

“Maybe it was just as well you didn’t have much time off.”

 

“Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced. “I still feel like I should have been there for longer, though.”

 

She wasn’t sure what to say, guilt at not being around her own family too unfamiliar an emotion for her to relate. Her parents should have had the monopoly on that, if only guilt was in their make-up. She settled for squeezing his hand.

 

“Some time has to be better than no time, though, doesn’t it?”

 

His eyes were wary as he looked back at her. “I guess.”

 

She followed him round the bar to a narrow balcony jutting over the main floor, to the side of the stage. There was a small group already clustered round the table.

 

“Hey, Edward!”

 

She was grateful that he didn’t let go of her hand even as the guy who’d spoken launched himself towards them.

 

“Hi, Liam. This is Bella.” She was less grateful that he pulled her to stand in front of him, as though presenting her for examination.

 

“Bella! It’s good to meet you.” He stuck out a hand and she shook it. “Looking forward to hearing us play?”

 

“Um–yes.”

 

“Great! There’s a lot of girls that don’t seem to get death metal.”

 

“Wh–what?”

 

“Ignore him, Bella.” One of the girls from the table made her way forward, holding out her hand. “I’m Siobhan, Liam’s girlfriend. And they do not play death metal.”

 

“Hi. And no offence, but that’s a relief.”

 

Siobhan’s dark curls bounced as she laughed. “Liam’s humour is a bit of an acquired taste. Edward really should have warned you.”

 

“If I’d warned her what to expect from Liam, she probably wouldn’t have come,” Edward interjected.

 

“It wouldn’t have been a deal breaker.” She’d leaned up to say it into his ear, though she probably had no business saying it at all in the circumstances. She wanted him to know that she was happy to be there, even if it was under a contract. Even if he might think her words were merely clarifying the terms.

 

He kissed the side of her head, his hands snaking round her waist. “Good to know. Can I get you a drink?”

 

“Just a beer, thanks.”

 

She tried not to look as awkward as she felt when he stepped away to go to the bar.

 

“So how did you and Edward meet?”

 

“Through work. We ended up at some of the same meetings.” At least Siobhan’s first question had been easy.

 

“I guess he told you we knew each other in school?”

 

Bella nodded. “He did. Have you and Liam been together since then?”

 

Siobhan laughed. “God, no. We only got together at our ten year reunion.”

 

“Took her that long to come to her senses.” Liam laughed, pulling Siobhan tight to his side.

 

“Or for Liam to grow up.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

His grin lit up his face, shining through what was more beard than scruff, blue eyes crinkling down at her.

 

“Don’t you have to go and get ready for your set?”

 

“Give me a minute. Just until Edward comes back.”

 

“Be good,” Siobhan warned him as Bella looked on. “You don’t want to listen to anything he says, Bella. When I said he’s grown up, it’s all relative. You can’t imagine what he was like before.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

She was definitely keeping an eye out for Edward returning, more than glad to see him on his way back however welcoming Liam and Siobhan were being.

 

“Here you go,” he said, handing her a beer as he set his own down to shrug out of his jacket. He set it neatly on one of the stools around the table and stretched his arm along the balcony railing behind her. “You need a hand with your jacket?”

 

“Not yet.” She wasn’t ready to be quite that exposed, and the bar wasn’t too full yet, so she was still comfortable. “Thanks for the beer.”

 

“Any time.” She stepped a little closer to him, aware that Liam was watching them, his eyebrows raised.

 

“So, Bella, it’s nice of you to take pity on Edward for New Year’s Eve.”

 

She took a sip of her beer, trying to look utterly nonchalant. Trying not to flinch towards Edward, or away. Trying above all not to look at him.

 

“I’m hardly taking pity on him. He did promise me a good night out.”

 

“Still, it’s a pretty big risk to take for a good night out.”

 

She looked at Liam suspiciously. And she had a pretty good idea that Edward’s expression was mirroring hers. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this, but why?”

 

Liam’s smile widened. “Well, you know what they say.”

 

Edward sighed. “Obviously you’re going to tell us. Can you get it over with, please?” 

 

“The person you kiss at midnight is the person you’ll be with for the whole of the year.”

 

Whatever the circumstances, there was only one answer she could give in front of Edward’s friends. She couldn’t turn to look at him. “I’ll take my chances.”

 

Liam grinned, raising his beer in a mock toast. “Just checking.”

 

“Are you sure it isn’t time for you to go and get ready for your set?” Edward asked exasperatedly.

 

He looked at his watch. “I guess it is. Hey, guys, come on!” He punctuated the yell with a signal towards the stage, and Peter and Garrett–she wasn’t sure which was which– nodded, finishing their beers and getting up to follow him. Bella squashed back into Edward to let them pass.

 

“Hope you enjoy the show,” Siobhan said, heading towards the other girls, leaving her with Edward.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Are you okay?” Edward asked as she took advantage of the less crowded space to move slightly away, though not far enough to make him remove his hand from her hip.

 

She turned enough to look at him. “Yes.”

 

“Don’t let Liam make you paranoid.”

 

She moved a little closer again. “Why would I?”

 

“So I’m still getting a New Year’s kiss?”

 

She leaned up, intending just to brush his lips with hers. But he caught her, kissing her soundly, making her forget where she was as his tongue pushed into her mouth.

 

“Were you getting in early in case I’d say no?” she inquired when he finally drew back.

 

He laughed. “Just reminding you why you shouldn’t.”

 

She shook her head, unable to help smiling. At least until she noticed Siobhan watching them curiously, when her smile faded and cheeks flared into a blush instead.

She started to squirm out of her jacket by way of distraction.

 

“Here, let me help,” Edward offered as she managed somehow to entangle herself in the sleeves.

 

“Always so keen to get my clothes off,” she quipped.

 

“Well, when you tease me about what you’re wearing underneath…” He trailed off as she turned away from him. “Did you know you can see right through your top?”

 

“Only at the back.”

 

“Even so…” He pulled her back to stand in front of him, his hands on her shoulders. “How about you stay right here?”

 

She rested her head against him. “Sounds good.”

 

The music started on the stage below them, making her jump a little. It was loud enough to ensure that they couldn’t talk easily. And there was the added bonus that Siobhan was on her feet, clapping and whistling at Liam. Bella no longer felt like the main attraction.

 

“Do they write their own stuff?” she yelled as the first song started, a melody she didn’t recognise.

 

“Mostly,” Edward replied. “Although they’ll play some covers too.”

 

 She nodded, shivering a little, although that had more to do with the fact that Edward’s lips were right on her ear than the temperature of the bar.

 

“Cold?” His hands ran down her arms and up again, his thumbs rubbing briefly at the top of her spine.

 

“No. But don’t let that stop you.” She took her turn to speak right into his ear, though it was a long way from whispering.

 

He swept her hair over her shoulder and she could feel him smile against her neck. “Good.”

 

The tempo of the music changed into something slower, and Edward’s hands moved to her hips as he swayed with her, coaxing her to move with him.

 

“Liam has a good voice.”

 

“He’s a good front man. In case you didn’t notice, he kind of likes being the centre of attention.”

 

“He’s good at it.”

 

There was no doubt that he was, the crowd clearly eating out of his hand. She relaxed into enjoyment of the set, sometimes singing along with their covers of songs she knew. She didn’t feel self-conscious about that, even though it would have taken her years before she’d sing in front of a real boyfriend. Maybe it was loud enough that Edward wouldn’t be able to hear, or judge. Maybe it was just that she didn’t need to censor herself so much, because she wasn’t supposed to care if he approved.

 

As the evening wore on she took more notice of the overall surroundings. It was strange seeing a concert from this elevated view, somehow apart from it all so that they could watch the crowd as well as the band. Bella couldn’t help wondering if Siobhan and the other girls liked being so removed from the action, but they looked happy enough. She was certainly happy enough herself, happier still when Edward’s hands snaked further round her waist, linking against her stomach. She rested her own on them, pleased for what felt like the first year ever that she’d left the house on New Year’s Eve. She watched as Liam raised his arm, holding it up until he caught Edward’s eye. She had to smile at that, at the acknowledgement of his friend. His friend who was suddenly disentangling himself from her. She spun round, startled.

 

“Sorry, I just have to go.”

 

“What? Go where?”

 

He laughed at her panic. “Just to the bar. That was Liam’s sign to say they only have a couple of songs to go and to get the beers in before they finish. You want another? Or something stronger for the new year?”

 

“Surprise me.” She aimed a kiss at him, missing his lips but catching his jaw. Which didn’t really count as missing at all…

 

She grinned as he retreated, turning herself to lean over the railing and watch the band.

 

“They’re nearly done.” Siobhan was suddenly beside her. “I’m just going to the bathroom- it’ll be crazy crowded as soon as they stop.”

 

“Is that why Liam gives the signal?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That makes sense. I thought it was a bit odd you’re all disappearing just before the end of their set.”

 

“Years of practice. Are you coming?”

 

Bella nodded.

 

“You and Edward look happy,” Siobhan observed as they started down the stairs.

 

Bella opened and closed her mouth, finding nothing to say in return. Siobhan squeezed her arm as they reached the ground.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m not fishing. Well, not really.” She looked marginally abashed as Bella raised her eyebrows. “I’m just saying–Edward–well, things aren’t easy for him. It’s good to see him happy. And you look happy with him too. So that’s–good.”

 

“Thanks?”

 

“Don’t sound so scared. It’s a good thing!”

 

They reached the toilets and parted company, Bella with Siobhan’s words spinning in her head. As they washed their hands she found herself questioning her before she could decide whether she should or not.

 

“What did you mean about things not being easy for Edward?”

 

Siobhan’s eyes met hers in the mirror. “Oh, Bella–I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Just that he has some family issues that have taken up a lot of his time.”

 

“I guess with his father gone…”

 

“He told you about that?”

 

Bella nodded, moving over to the hand drier. “A little.”

 

“Well, he has a lot of responsibility where his mom and sister are concerned–more than can be good for him, to be honest. Doesn’t leave him much time for a girlfriend, or it hasn’t before.”

 

“Oh, I’m not…” She let the sentence drift into nothing.

 

Siobhan finished touching up her lipstick. “I’m not prying, Bella. I promise. I don’t even know you yet. But he looks happy, and I’m a fan of that. You look happy too, so I’m hoping it’s going to continue. Can I leave it there?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She was mildly relieved at that, though her mind was still in a whirl as they climbed the stairs back to their little balcony. Edward had made it back before them. She tried to shake off everything Siobhan had said and smiled at him.

 

“So, what did you bring me?”

 

He handed her a fairly lurid looking shot. “It’s called a Christmas tree.”

 

She held up the glass. “A shot? Are you trying to get me drunk?”

 

He blinked less than innocently. “Do I need to?”

 

She shook her head and rolled her eyes all at once.

 

“We always do shots on New Year’s. It’s kind of a tradition. And I thought a Christmas tree was too appropriate to pass up.”

 

He looked irresistible trying to explain himself. And if he was like that now, she had no chance of resisting him after taking the shot. Not that she wanted to resist him, but still…

 

“What’s in it, anyway?”

 

“Crème de menthe, grenadine and Irish Cream.”

 

She grimaced.

 

“Not a fan?”

 

“No. But if it’s tradition…and you’re right. It is appropriate.”

 

“Ready then?”

 

He lifted his own glass from the table and counted. “Three, two, one…”

 

“God, that was…” His lips were on hers before she could finish the sentence, the sharpness of the peppermint liquor burning its way down her throat, chased by the smooth heat of the Irish Cream. He tasted better than it, his tongue gliding over hers, exploring while his hands traced the waistband of her jeans, dipping just under it before he came up for air. She hoped it was dark enough that no-one would notice. And that her weakened knees would hold her up.

 

“Is that a thong?” he asked as his mouth finally left hers, his fingers playing with the strings below her waistband.

 

“Maybe. You’ll have to wait to find out.”

 

“Are you trying to kill me before midnight?”

 

“She’ll have to get a move on if she is,” Liam interjected. She should be blushing at how much he might have heard, but the colour on her cheeks couldn’t be distinguished from her alcohol-induced flush. “There’s only a couple of minutes left.”

 

“Stop eavesdropping and go annoy your girlfriend,” Edward said good-naturedly. “Good show, by the way.”

 

“Thanks. You liked it, Bella?”

 

“Yes.” She smiled at him. It was easy to smile at anybody while snuggled into Edward’s side, but she was beginning to grasp that Liam was a good enough friend to Edward to be deserving of her smiles. “I did.”

 

“Good. You can bring her around again, Edward.”

 

“I’m glad you approve.”

 

Sarcasm, however amiable, appeared to be lost on Liam. He grinned, slapping Edward on the back. “It’s about time. Happy New Year!”

 

“It’s not _quite_ New Year yet.”

 

“Actually...”

 

Somehow she’d missed the fact that the countdown was starting.

 

“Five, four, three, two, one. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!”

 

The bar erupted in a wall of sound. Bella laughed, doing a quick and wobbly spin in front of Edward, catching sight of Liam and Siobhan embracing. She leaned her head back as she faced him, snaking both hands round his waist to hold him tight.

 

“Happy new year, Edward.”

 

“It is,” he said, or she thought he said, having to lip read to catch it through the noise around them. “Happy new year.”

 

He kissed her again, and she knew this kiss wasn’t appropriate for public. For once she simply didn’t care, letting her own hands slide down, into his back pockets, pulling him forward to feel him against her. She felt him groan into her mouth, the kiss deepening further.

 

“How long do we have to stay?”

 

Her eyes opened slowly at the question, finding his own, glazed, staring down at her.

 

“It’s up to you.”

 

“For God’s sake get a room.” Again she felt she should be embarrassed how closely Liam was watching them. She buried her head shyly against Edward’s chest.

 

Siobhan elbowed her boyfriend. “Would you give them a break? And you can leave when you want, Edward. We wouldn’t want to get in the way of… _that._ ” She waggled her eyebrows.

 

“Good. We’ll be going then.” He reached for both of their jackets, and she didn’t miss that he was keeping her tucked firmly in front of him. She could feel the reason for that pressed into her back. “Happy new year.”

 

“Happy new year,” Bella echoed.

 

“Happy new year. Hopefully we’ll see you soon.”

 

She might have hugged Siobhan if she’d been close enough, but Edward’s grip was firm as he manoeuvred her towards the stairs. “You too.”

 

“Hey, Edward, wait up!”

 

They came to an abrupt halt at Liam’s call. “What is it now?”

 

“You’ll never get a cab if you don’t have one booked. The bar manager guaranteed us taxis- take this number and use my name.”

 

“Really? Thanks, Liam.”

 

“No problem. And Siobhan’s not wrong. I hope we see you soon, Bella.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

She felt oddly emotional as they stopped just inside the door and Edward phoned for the cab. New Year’s often had that effect, but tonight she thought it was more to do with Edward and his friends. This wasn’t the time for idle reflection, she told herself, but then he was standing in front of her again, smiling down at her, and the warmth spreading throughout her veins had nothing to do with the alcohol she’d consumed.

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

She dipped her head, embarrassed. “Liam and Siobhan are nice.”

 

“They’re nosey. But nice.”

 

“They obviously look out for you.”

 

He shrugged. “We hung out in high school. We’re used to looking out for each other. Did you have a good night?”

 

She nodded. “I’m hoping it’s not over.”

 

“It’s not.” His eyes closed, and she watched him swallow, loving that she could make him react in such a way that he had to fight for control. When he reopened them, his gaze was soft. “But it was all right? They didn’t frighten you off?”

 

“No. I mean, with this…” –She gestured between them– “I don’t have to like your friends. But for what it’s worth I did. Not that I got to talk to them much.” She raised her eyebrows.

 

He laughed. “I guess I did monopolise you a bit. At least I don’t have to share any more tonight.”

 

She stepped a little closer, wanting to be in his arms again. His arms opened, but the ring of his phone stopped them. “Cab’s outside.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Yours or mine?”

 

“Mine, if that’s ok. It’s just easier when I don’t have an overnight bag or anything.”

 

“Yours it is, then.”

 

He gave the taxi driver her address and then she was fighting to control herself. One of his hands was on hers, playing with her fingers, tracing patterns in her palm, while the other had found its way under her hair to gently massage her neck. It was all she could do not to moan, biting her lip instead, trying not to notice him move closer until he was kissing along her neck. She couldn’t help leaning her head back, giving him more access, letting her own hand rise to hold his head there, to play with his hair. By the time they reached her house, she’d almost forgotten where they were. Her eyes opened, dazed, as the driver’s voice cut in and Edward pulled back, the icy air bringing her back to earth when he opened the door.

 

She wondered if she looked as dazzled as she felt as he helped her out and then wound both arms round her from behind to march her to the door.

 

“Edward…” Her voice trailed off as his lips made their way back to her ear and she almost dropped the bag she was fumbling in for her keys.

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“Stop. The sooner we get inside, the sooner you can…well, you know.”

 

“Get inside?”

 

The amusement in his voice at the innuendo made her fingers shake on the key, her hand-eye co-ordination shot to hell as she tried to get it into the lock.

 

“Here, I’ll do it.”

 

The door swung open thanks to him but she didn’t have time for the groan of relief that was trying to escape. Instead it was a yelp as he picked her up and she found herself pressed up against the other side of the door, Edward somehow having closed it without her registering they were through it.

 

And then he was gone–the body that had been tight against her, every line and muscle, suddenly no longer held her up. Her eyes fluttered open again and she stumbled a step forward to find him stripping off his coat. His eyes, lazy and hooded, held hers as she removed her scarf and then her jacket, tossing them to the side. She shivered.

 

“Cold?” He took a step back towards her. “What’s under your top, Bella?”

 

She turned round, glancing over her shoulder as she flaunted the sheer back of the top. “Can’t you see?”

 

“Not well enough.” He reached out to touch the back of her neck. “But maybe the hall isn’t the best place for this– are you ready to go upstairs?”

 

She nodded, and then he was taking her hand and pushing her in front of him, his hands running all over her ass as he guided her up the stairs in front of him. She switched on the bedside lamp as soon as they were in her room, not wanting total darkness, not prepared to make her eyes sting with the harshness of the ceiling light.

 

He stepped towards her, already unbuttoning his shirt. She moved in, sliding her hands to part the material, kissing his neck, kissing down his chest as they revealed more of it. He pulled her head up, kissing her deeply as she pushed the shirt over his shoulders and off.

 

“Hands up,” he ordered huskily, drawing back again. She couldn’t help smiling as she obeyed. He tugged the hem of her top, pulling it up and away. She let her hands fall to his shoulders as he tried to hold her at arm’s length to see her properly.

 

“Jesus. Fuck, Bella.”

 

Her face flushed at his reaction, his hands tracing up her sides, brushing over her breasts, the nipples that were so obvious. He ran his fingers under the silk strings that were cradling the lace.

 

“You’re beautiful.” She dropped her head, strangely shy, even though this was exactly the response she’d been aiming for.

 

“I’m glad you like.” She stepped in again, her voice muffled against his chest, and she felt the vibration of his groan as her lace met his skin.

 

“Do they match?”

 

She let her hand slide between them, tracing the outline of his cock through his jeans as she pressed herself against his bare chest.

 

“Do you?”

 

“You can find out.”

 

She didn’t know what was so hot about undoing his belt buckle, but she couldn’t look away from her own trembling fingers as she slid it open and popped the button. She pushed her fingers in as she undid his jeans the rest of the way, raising her eyebrows as she encountered his boxers.

 

“Teasing me, Edward? You’re not commando at all.”

 

His smile gave way to a groan as she leaned up, stroking her tongue into his mouth, their hands roving and touching and feeling. His settled on her hips, planting her firmly back at arm’s length as he tore his lips from hers. She pouted.

 

“I want to see you,” he said heavily and her hands were on the button of her own jeans immediately, undoing them, shoving them down even as she kicked off her boots.

 

He was still watching when she reached out for his, pushing them down with his boxers, his cock slapping back against him as she released it. And then it was all about his hands on her bare ass, running over and over, finding the string of her thong and following it round to the lace at her front.

 

They both stared at his fingers as they made their way under the lace, the flex of his arm as he reached lower to find her hot and wet. Her mouth dropped open in a moan before he covered it with his own, walking her back until her legs hit the bed and she fell back onto it.

 

He crawled over her as she shimmied her way back, catching her nipple between his teeth through her bra, making her back arch, making her moan his name.

 

 _“Edward.”_  

 

“What do you want?”

 

She didn’t have the words to answer his whisper, reaching instead for his hips to pull him closer, curling her tongue out to beckon his cock towards her mouth. He was quickly close enough to be within reach of her hand, and she traced his tip with her tongue while his fingers found their way again between her legs, beneath her thong.

 

Their eyes met, and wandered, and she opened her mouth wider to suck him in.

 

_“Bella.”_

 

 She’d never been a position quite like this, so much at someone’s mercy, and yet with the strangled sound of her name on his lips she’d never felt so much power. Her hips moved against his hand, and she increased her suction, massaging his balls, caressing his ass. She could feel her own orgasm building, and it was as it hit that he jerked back, her mouth opening around her cry, eyes closing tight in ecstasy.

 

She opened them to find him smiling down at her.

 

“You pulled out,” she said, accusingly.

 

“Didn’t want to have to wait to be in here.”

 

His finger slid back inside her, making her arch and cry out again, over-sensitive now. His other hand stroked his cock, just once, before he reached for the condoms she kept in her bedside drawer. She shouldn’t find it so hot to watch him put it on, but the sight of him touching himself while he did was almost enough to make her start touching herself as well, recent orgasm notwithstanding.

 

He kissed her. “I could watch you come all night.”

 

“Make me.”

 

The words were thick with her lust, barely audible. She wriggled out of her soaking thong, sitting up then to unclasp her bra. His hands went straight to her breasts, making her sigh at the contact, now unhindered. He moved over her, nudging her thighs apart with his own, his hardness bumping against her as he lined himself up. She raised her hips, and they both moaned at the feel of him slipping just slightly inside.

 

She thought he’d never move, propped up on his elbows, his hands framing her face while he stayed right there, completely still. Slowly, so slowly that she almost whimpered, he lowered his head to hers, lips meeting softly, sweetly. His tongue entered her mouth as he thrust, suddenly, hard into her, and she moaned around it.

 

His pace was steady, thrusting, grinding, making her claw at his back, her legs writhing around his body, her breasts against his chest, and she still didn’t feel close enough.

 

_“More...please…”_

 

She’d have thought her gasp was unintelligible if he hadn’t answered her by speeding up, driving deeper and harder, relentless so that he hit her clit on every thrust. She came again, this time in a sobbing wail that felt as if it went on forever.

_“Fu..uck…Edwaaaaaard….”_

 

She was boneless when he pulled her legs higher, over his shoulders, still clenching round his cock. He thrust once, twice, more, his thumb pressing down on her clit as he stilled, finally, buried as deep in her as she thought she could take him, her name frozen on her lips in a near-silent groan.

_“Bell…aaaa.”_

 

She’d never seen anything better. As he collapsed against her, and her hands went to his hair, smoothing, enjoying the sensation of the strands against her fingers, she wished that Emmett’s superstition could be right.

 

 

**  
**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Feelings

“So, are you taking someone to the wedding?” Rosalie asked as Bella pulled back the curtain from the dressing room and stepped out in the first dress she’d picked to try on. 

The question was inevitable. She’d been half-expecting it since she’d arranged to drag Rosalie along to help her find something to wear to Angela’s wedding. All the same, it took effort not to retreat straight back behind the curtain. Instead she let her hair fall forward over her face, wishing she had enough faith in her own fashion sense to have gone shopping alone.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Rosalie sighed, standing up to pull Bella’s hair back. They both looked into the mirror, considering her reflection. “What you mean, is that you haven’t asked him yet because you’re scared he’ll say no. You do know you’ll have to reply to the invitation soon, don’t you?”

“Did Angela put you up to this?” Bella snapped away and turned, peering over her shoulder and standing on her tiptoes to see how the dress would hang if she was wearing heels. “She keeps telling me that even though she knows I’m going, she won’t add me to the list until I formally RSVP.”

“No, I haven’t spoken to her.” Rosalie tugged at the dress, straightening it over Bella’s hips. “But you’ll have to ask him soon.”

“What him would that be?” 

Rosalie glared at her. “The him you’ve been hanging around since at least Christmas. The one you’re hiding away from your friends. What’s the big secret, Bella?”

“There is no big secret. What do you think of the dress, anyway?”

Rosalie hummed, unconvinced. “Try the next one.”

Bella shuffled back into the dressing room.

“If there’s no big secret, tell me about him,” Rosalie challenged. “Wait — is he married?”

“Oh, would you give it up?” Bella was already exasperated. “Fine, I’m kind of seeing someone. It’s just very casual, that’s all. There’s really nothing to tell. ”

She ignored the fact that it felt like a lie as she shimmied out of the first dress and into the next, a lace-covered cobalt blue. She smoothed it down, adjusting the deep V of the neckline to make sure it would cover her bra. She would not be going to a wedding sans underwear. 

“You’re not that girl, Bella. You don’t do casual.”

It was a shame the curtain didn’t block out sound. As it was, she was tempted not to bother coming out. She could just stay in here admiring the dress she was fairly certain she was going to buy. She leaned forward to do another cleavage check. See — she hadn’t needed Rosalie for this, after all.

“A minute ago you thought I’d do married. Maybe now I do casual.”

Rosalie snorted. “Maybe you’ll get hurt. Who is he, anyway?”

“Everyone gets hurt sometimes.” 

She hoped she sounded more blasé than she felt. Normally, she wouldn’t object to Rosalie’s all-too-honest comments. It was one of the reasons she’d brought her shopping, after all. Rose couldn’t hide her real opinions to save her life. Bella would usually describe that as one of her best qualities. But she couldn’t let her know that this time, it felt as though Rose was sticking pins in her. Or maybe red-hot needles. “And it really doesn’t matter who he is.”

She was not going to give that away. Rosalie had heard of Edward Cullen once or twice — the once or twice when Bella had mentioned the guy she knew through work and to whom she felt some kind of weird connection. She’d even accused Bella of turning down dates with perfectly pleasant men out of a misguided longing for him. Bella could only imagine the reaction if she let slip the name of her part time boyfriend — or the terms of their arrangement. No, she’d be keeping all of that to herself for as long as she could.

“Friends with benefits never works,” Rosalie warned. “You’re setting yourself up for a fall.”

“It’s not like that.” She ignored the voice in her head that was telling her it was almost exactly like that. She stepped out from the dressing room at last. “What do you think?”

The frown left Rosalie’s face immediately. “Oh, it’s perfect, Bella. You look gorgeous.” 

“Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“It’s for a wedding. Of course it’s not too much. I’m still surprised Angela didn’t ask you to be bridesmaid, though.”

Bella swivelled round, looking over her shoulder into the mirror in an effort to view the dress from all angles. “We did talk about it. She knew I’d have hated all the photographing and so on. Honestly, I’m relieved not to have to be in the middle of that.”

“Well, she wouldn’t have found you a better dress. And whoever the guy is, he’d better appreciate it.”

She blushed. She had a feeling Edward would appreciate it. But she was well aware Rosalie was watching her closely, the blush a dead giveaway that there was something more than casual plainly there to see. 

“Give me a minute to get changed and we’ll go and look for shoes.”

 

 

It was only later, when she was home and hanging the dress in her closet, that she let herself imagine, for a moment, what it would be like when the arrangement ended and Rose was proved right. For the second she allowed herself to wonder, she felt completely and totally bereft. She squeezed her eyes tightly against the threat of tears, swallowing the lump that grew in her throat. She let the lace and silk of the dress slide through her fingers, facing the fact that the deciding factor in her shopping was imagining how it would feel under his hands, how he’d look at her when she wore it. 

But then she took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was only in this situation because she wanted to be. She had the option of walking away at any time. She could walk away right now, if she wanted, and she chose not to do it. She’d keep choosing not to do it. Because she’d rather take what she could get of him, for as long as she could. Because the fantasy of having him to rely on was incomparably better to the reality of being alone: independent, sure, but without even the dream of Edward to warm her solitary existence. It was too easy to remember just why she thought the risk of falling and losing him — losing herself — was worth the risk.

Since New Year’s Eve, they’d settled into a strange kind of routine. She’d even describe them as friends. Friends who saw each other naked, who knew all the secrets that were hidden under their clothes. Except surely that was an intimacy that went way beyond friendship? He’d been prepared to schedule her in on a weekly basis, volunteering to be her gym buddy when she announced after New Year that she wanted to improve her fitness. He’d volunteered. And stuck to it, even when work pushed their workouts later into the evening. Of course, they’d both benefitted from that arrangement. Her skin heated as she remembered this week’s workout. She’d definitely burned more calories than she’d expected. 

Edward in gym clothes was hot. She’d expected that. It was one reason she’d been reluctant to take him up on his offer to train with her.

“I’ll hold you back.”

“We don’t have to do the same routine,” he’d laughed at her. “We already belong to the same gym — this’ll just motivate us to actually go. We can work out, relax in the sauna and maybe have a late dinner afterwards?”

Edward in the sauna. Edward in the spa. Edward in shorts and Edward in a shirt that would show off his arms. Edward coming home with her afterwards. There was no way she could say no to that.

“All right then.”

It was only after she agreed that she realised he’d be seeing her in her workout clothes: out-of-breath and sweaty and at her least attractive. It resulted in an immediate and panicked shopping trip before their first trip to the gym. 

It took her most of their first session to realise that he appreciated her in Lycra, and that maybe the effects of her exertions weren’t quite the turn-off she’d imagined. She’d had enough to concentrate on, watching him run and lift and press, his face sometimes contorting in ways that made her think of his expressions when he was with her, touching her, inside her. That made her heart beat faster than any exercise required. But it was only when he came to stand beside her as she came to the end of her cooldown on the step machine that it dawned on her that he might be affected in a similar way.

“Nearly finished?” he asked gruffly, and she pulled her iPod’s earbud from her ear before she answered.

“Thirty seconds left. You want to try the sauna after this?”

He had to look up at her, situated as she was on the machine, and she could have sworn he groaned as his eyes trailed up her body to meet hers. “Sure. If stretching with you doesn’t kill me first.”

She felt his hand slide from her waist to her thigh, passing over her butt with the lightest pressure. She almost fell off, her head spinning to see if anyone noticed. He smirked at her as she clambered down, nodding in the direction of the mats.

“Ready?”

Her nod came with a gulp of absolutely not, and he grinned openly. “Believe me, this will be much harder for me than you.”

“I don’t doubt that.” She let her eyes linger well below his. “Do you want to go first?” 

She wasn’t sure afterwards how they got through the next five minutes. She’d never stretched with a partner before. It occurred to her to worry that Edward had as he leaned over her, pushing her leg back towards her shoulder as she lay flat on her back. He knew what he was doing.

“Have you done this often?”

He smiled down at her, and she was struck again by the intimacy of the position.

“Not this, exactly. This is a lot nicer than with some sweaty guy and a coach giving instructions, believe me.”

“Oh.”

She was even jealous of whatever sweaty guy on whatever team that might have been, especially when it was her turn to stretch him further and she found herself trying to see the parts of him that were hidden by his shorts.

“What are you looking at, Bella?”

She almost let his leg drop from her grasp. “N-nothing.”

“I think you know it’s not nothing.”

She pushed his leg a little further, smirking as he groaned. “We’ll check that later.”

 

 

And yet some things still remained off limits for discussion. All the same, she couldn’t help feeling as if she knew him, even if she didn’t know so much about him.

She wanted to know it all: everything he could tell her and more. But she wasn’t allowed to think about that. 

When he was with her, he was her boyfriend. But when he wasn’t — who knew what went on then?

If she was honest, she didn’t imagine anything much went on then. But it was worth reminding herself that it could, just so she’d stay aware that jealousy wasn’t an option. That she had no claim on him. That he owed her nothing at all but the honesty of choosing to be with her or be there for her when it suited them both.

And so she restricted herself to the spontaneous. If he was available for dinner, great. A movie, great. A late night rescue from the largest spider she’d ever seen in her bath? Even better — especially if it was late enough that it made sense for him to stay. But she was doing her best not to plan ahead. She wasn’t playing games with him either — she couldn’t. If he called and she was free she was there like a shot. If she wasn’t free, she didn’t change her plans. No matter how much she wanted to. But the looming wedding — and the even more looming need to reply to the invitation — was piling on the pressure she’d been trying to avoid.

She had to talk to him this weekend. Had to. There was no way round it.

But of course she’d failed to factor in the truth that they didn’t have to answer to each other or check in with their weekend plans in advance. 

“I’m sorry,” he said when she called him, offering a home cooked meal and maybe a movie, and maybe a whole lot more that she wasn’t going to mention right now. “I have to go home and see my family this weekend.”

“Oh, sure.” She tried not to sound disappointed. 

“I haven’t had a chance to be there since Christmas and I’d rather not leave it much longer.”

“I get it.” She also got the feeling there was more he wasn’t saying, but she’d gleaned enough about his family not to push him into talking if he didn’t want to. It didn’t stop her hoping he’d want to. “Next time, maybe?”

“As soon as I’m back, I’m yours,” he promised, and she felt an altogether unhelpful fluttering around her heart.

“Whatever,” she muttered, low enough that hopefully he wouldn’t hear her passive aggression and run. “No strings.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just — you know, whenever we want or can, for as long as we want.”

“Or can.”

Maybe that should have made her feel better, but as they ended the call she was anything but reassured.

She knew she was becoming far too used to having him around, especially on weekend nights. She’d always been used to being by herself, to using her Saturdays to do all her housework and chores, and this was no different. She did seem to have more energy than usual, practically scrubbing the house from top to bottom, doing all the laundry that she usually saved for Sundays, baking bread and making a variety of dishes she could freeze. By the evening, she should have been too tired to miss him, not that she should be missing him at all. There was nothing she’d really needed him for today. But as she lazed on the sofa with her late night glass of wine, she swore she could feel his absence. The week before she’d been cuddled up with him, paying no attention to the movie that was playing on the television while his hands ran over her arms and back oh-so-innocently, a teasing, gentle touch that made her shiver and made her own touches turn not-innocent at all. In the end she chalked her weird sense of foreboding up to plain old frustration and took herself to bed, though the rustle of her crisp clean sheets did nothing to make her feel less alone. With the light switched off, the darkness seemed emptier than usual. Maybe it was the fact that she’d had the whole day on her own to think, maybe it was the alcohol loosening the rein she kept on her imagination, but she could cry at the thought that all she had was all she’d ever get from him. Maybe that was all she deserved.

Those were the thoughts that kept her half-awake, kept her sleep no more than fitful. She tried to remind herself why she didn’t want a full-time boyfriend. She liked her independence. She didn’t want to have to factor someone into her decisions about how to spend her free time. She didn’t want to be beholden to anybody.

She tried to shut out the thought that having Edward around never felt like a chore. That she wanted to choose to be there when he needed her, or wanted her. That she’d always choose to make him happy.

None of that could mean anything at all.

 

 

Sunday did little to improve her mood. She went through the motions of everything she usually did, walking to the bakery for fresh croissants, settling down in front of the fire with a pile of newspapers and a big jug of coffee. She’d always loved her quiet Sundays. But now she couldn’t help remembering the week before, when Edward had made breakfast and they’d lazed in bed for the whole morning, reading and passing occasional comments. It was so easy to be in his company. She felt a momentary surge of panic at how well he fit into her routine, apparently without even trying. She shook the paper out and made herself concentrate again. There was no point in thinking about it, no point in missing him. From this weekend it was clear she didn’t fit so well into his plans.

But none of the tying herself in knots could stop her paying more than her usual attention to her phone. She still held out hope that if he made it back in time he might call or text or ask to come over. The fear that she was starting to feel things she shouldn’t didn’t mean she’d refuse him. Without a reason, their arrangement kind of meant she couldn’t. Or so she told herself, anyway.

Equally, she was prepared for him not to contact her at all. There was no reason he should, no obligation to tell her he was safely home — and no right for her to check on him, either. 

She was dozing in front of the television when her phone finally did beep with an incoming message. 

Stuck outside the city. Car trouble. Any chance you could pick me up?

She didn’t even hesitate. Of course. You ok?

Thanks. I’ve had better weekends. Especially the ones I’ve had with you.

Her heart stuttered at that. Where are you?

She didn’t wait for an answer before she was on her feet, heading for the stairs to pick up a hoodie and her keys. By the time he replied to say exactly where he’d been towed to, she was locking her door. 

Rosalie would tell her she shouldn’t just run when he called. And the fact that Rosalie didn’t know didn’t silence her voice in Bella’s head. But then she remembered the times that he’d come running when she’d called. It was the whole basis of the arrangement and besides that, there was no way he’d leave her stranded halfway home. She took a breath and climbed into the car.

Be there as soon as I can.

She couldn’t help that her heart was beating faster as she pulled off the main road to the service station. Even though it was cold and the spring light was already fading, he was sitting on a bench outside, beanie pulled down over his head, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. He stood up as he saw her approach and she flipped the locks open.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She slid her hand onto his knee as soon as he sat down. “What happened to the car?”

“A light came on to say there was something wrong with the brakes. I had to stop and call assistance, but they needed to take it back to the garage I bought it from. Which was back where I’d come from, of course. Right in the opposite direction. They dropped me off here — it was the handiest place I could get them to leave me. I’m sorry.”

“You know you never have to be sorry to ask me for help. I do it all the time.”

“Not like this. I really am sorry to drag you the whole way out here and mess up your Sunday, Bella.”

“Edward, you know if I’d been busy I’d have told you. That’s what we do, after all.”

“Well, I’m grateful. This is more than you signed up for.”

He stretched his legs out with a sigh and she withdrew her hand, her heart thudding as she considered bringing up the subject of Angela’s wedding. Would he think she was trying to blackmail him with it now? Like, she’d throw him out of the car if he said no? Or that she’d waited to bring it up until she had something good to hold over him — something like driving an hour out of the city to pick him up? She blinked, turning round in the lot to head for home. This wasn’t the time. He seemed — sad — sadder than simple car problems should leave him.

“I’m happy to help. Are you sure you’re all right?”

He shrugged. “Rough weekend, that’s all.”

She concentrated on taking the right exit from the service station. The last thing they needed was to have to drive miles in the opposite direction if she made a mistake. But once they were pointed back towards the city she tried again.

“Did something happen with your family?”

He rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You know I can listen, if you want,” she offered hesitantly. “A full-time girlfriend would.”

“A full-time girlfriend would run screaming for the hills if she had any wit.”

“Good thing I’m not full-time, then, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t mean I want to drive you away.”

“You won’t. We don’t have to do anything we don’t want, right?” She saw him nod from the corner of her eye. “So, if I don’t want to hear it I’ll tell you. Right now I’m offering to listen. And you look like you could use a friendly ear.”

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious, especially after what she’d been told on New Year’s Eve. But mostly she just wanted to make him look less stressed. 

“There’s not actually much to say.” He pulled off his hat, cradling it in his hands, not bothering to try to fix his hair. “My mom’s found it tough ever since my dad died. She was young, you know? She had time to find someone else, to make some other kind of life for herself. But she didn’t try — she put everything she had into raising me and Alice.”

“Maybe that was all she needed. Maybe she didn’t want someone else.”

“No, she didn’t. She and my dad were the real thing, an absolute done deal. They should have had more time, you know? We should all have had more time.” He was silent for a minute or two, staring out the window. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She fought the urge to reach out towards him. For some reason she didn’t think he’d welcome it. “You’re allowed to be sad, you know. Or to feel like you were all dealt a shitty hand.”

“It’s not even that, though. It’s like my mom hasn’t got anything to keep her going now we’re grown up. Except for worry about Alice, which isn’t good for her either. Sometimes it feels like she’s just giving up.”

“Oh, Edward.” She did reach for him then, squeezing his hand. “And what about Alice?”

“Alice is bipolar. She also has low-level OCD. Right now she’s hypomanic — that means if you met her, she’d come across as distracted, a little too happy, kind of hyperactive. It’s not full-blown mania, but it does mean her judgement’s impaired. She doesn’t have the same sense of self-preservation other people do. So she might stay out all night with people she doesn’t know, or do things that aren’t exactly safe. And all the time my mom’s there wondering if she’ll make it home all right.”

“And you’re left wondering about both of them.”

He shrugged. “I don’t really care about that. I hate that I can’t be there more, but I have to keep my job. I’m just never sure what I’ll find when I go home — I can’t get a good enough read on what’s going on through the phone.”

“Does Alice work?”

“She’s an artist. There are times when she works almost every minute of the day and months when she doesn’t work at all.”

“Do they have any kind of help there?”

He grimaced. “Not enough. And Alice hates medication — it’s impossible to make sure she keeps taking it. It’s certainly not something my mom can deal with.”

“I’m sorry.”

He took his hand from hers abruptly, pushing back his hair. “What have you got to be sorry about? It’s not your fault. And if you mean you’re sorry for me, just don’t. I don’t want your pity.”

“I — I don’t pity you. I kind of feel bad for asking you to step in with stupid stuff for me when you have all of that going on.”

“See, that’s partly why I didn’t want to tell you. Being around for you — it’s easy, normal. Hanging out with you, I can be me — not this other guy, with all these responsibilities. We don’t have to talk about this again, Bella, really. Can’t we just go on the way we have been? Please?”

She bit her lip, hesitating. She’d offer to take some of his worry, if she could. To let him talk and talk and tell her everything, instead of this abridged version of his hurt. But offering him more might only drive him away and then she couldn’t even be there for him the way he wanted. The way she thought he might even need.

“Of course. Isn’t that what this is about? We don’t give or take more than what’s comfortable for both of us.”

He sighed. “Thanks.”

It was later that night, when he’d opted to come to her house, to fall into her bed, that she dared to whisper. “If you ever need to tell me more, I won’t run away.”

He didn’t answer, kissing her gently, slowly, making her feel like he was taking all the comfort she longed to offer. His hands slipped inside her pyjamas, pushing them away from her skin, pressing his chest to hers. She felt her heart thrum against him, through the liquid velvet caress of every touch. And when she reached down to guide him into her, he drew her up, into his lap, so that they were joined together, seated chest to chest and mouth to mouth and eye to eye. Tonight his thrusts were shallow, rocking into her, holding her as if she was precious to him, watching her and kissing her softly. The slow dance of their movements built an intensity matched by the way he was looking at her, making her feel as if he could read her mind and see her soul. It was scary and exhilarating all at once, and though she tried to close her eyes, she found she couldn’t. She came apart long and moaning low in his arms, her climax taking her almost by surprise in the way it hit and lasted, feeling like he was pulling it from her with his gaze that never faltered. He still didn’t answer when she felt him pulse inside her, clutching her to him and as deep as she thought he’d ever been.

But when they fell back against the bed, she felt his lips pressed against the top of her head, and his arms tightened where they held her against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! And I’d love to know what you thought. :) I’m pingvingirl on Twitter too if you’d like to say hello.
> 
> I’m afraid I can’t commit to an update schedule. All I can promise is that I will finish my stories. My original fiction is progressing and it comes first — outside of my full-time job that is! The next chapter is part-written, though, so it shouldn’t be as long a wait this time.


End file.
